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'J  "  .. 


THE 


CHRISTIAN'S    GIFT. 


EDITED    BY 

REV.    RUFUS    W.    CLARK. 


BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED  BY  JOHN  P.  JEWETT  AND.  COMPANY. 

CLEVELAND,    OfflO:    H.  P.  B.  JEWETT. 

NEW     YORK  :       8HELDOX,     BLAKEMAN     AND     C03IPANT. 

1857. 


Cb 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1856,  by 

JOHN  P.  JEWETT  AND  COMPANY, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


C  AM  B  ridge: 
ALLKN   AND   FARJSHAM,   STKRKOTYPERS   AND   PRINTEKS. 


CONTENTS. 


L    Ruth  and  Naomi 


By  Rev.  Andrew  P.  Peabody,  D.  D.,  Editor  of  the  North  American 
Review. 


11.    The  Refuge  from  the  Storm    ....        29 

By  Right  Rev.  Thomas  M.  Clark,  D.D.,  Providence,  R.  I. 

UL    The  Sabbath  and  Heaven  ....        89 

By  Rev.  William  B.  Sprague,  D.  D.,  Albany,  N.  Y. 

IV.    The  Holy  Angels 71 

By  Rev.  Rollin  H.  Neale,  D.  D.,  Boston. 

V.    The  Holy  Child  Jesus 87 

By  the  Editor. 

VI.    Elements  of  a  Happy  Home      ....      109 

By  Rev.  Andrew  L.  Stone,  Boston. 


(ffl) 


9^1149 


IV                                             CONTENTS. 
Vn.    The  Resurrection 131 

By  the  Editor. 

VIII.    The  Spiritual  Good  of  Thankfulness   .        .      157 

By  Rev.  Henry  M.  Dexter,  Boston. 

IX.    The  Crucifixion 177 

By  the  Editor. 

X.    The  Waning  Night  and  Coming  Day      .        .      201 

By  R«t.  "William  S.  Studley,  Boston. 

XI.    Upward 225 

By  Mrs,  E.  W.  Clark. 

XII.    The  Glory  of  Christ 229 

By  the  Editor. 

Xni.    Heaven  Spiritual 247 

By  Prof.  F.  D.  Huntington,  D.  D.,  Cambridge. 

XIV.    Heaven  conceivable  to  the  Christian  .      275 

By  Rev.  Alexander  H.  Vinton,  D.  D.,  Boston. 

XV.    Praise  in  Heaven 295 

By  Rev.  Edward  N.  Kirk,  D.  D.,  Boston. 


CONTENTS. 


V 


POETRY 


PAQB 

The  Resolution  of  Ruth 25 

Where  hast  thou  Gleaned? 27 

God  an  Unfailing  Refuge Wordtworth.  38 

Sabbath  Evening G.  B.  Prendce.  %7 

Sabbath  Evening 69 

Angels Mrs.  Eliza  Walton  Clark.  82 

My  Name Florence  Percy.  85 

Children  whom  Jesus  Blessed    ....       Mrs.  Jlenians.  lOi 

The  Child  Reading  the  Bible        ....  Mrs.  Hemans.  105 

The  Light  of  Home Mrs.  Hale.  128 

The  Two  Homes Emily  B.  Qtrroll.  129 

"  If  a  Man  Die,"  etc Mrs.  Eliza  W.  Clark.  150 

Farewell  to  the  Body Mrs.  Sigoumey.  153 

God's  Acre H.  W.  Longfellow.  155 

Hymn  of  Praise Milman.  172 

Previse  for  Afflictions Caroline  Fry.  175 

RF.JOICING  in  Heaven Mary  Howitt.  17G 

The  Crucifixion Croly.  196 

The  Crucifixion Montgomery.  200 

The  Midnight  Voice Albert  Laighton.  223 

Shadows Iladassah.  221 

Invocation  to  Faith      ....    Harriet  McEwen  Kimball.  223 

Upward Mrs.  E.  W.  Clark.  226 

The  Glory  of  Christ Mrs.  E.  W.  Clark.  245 

0,  Talk  to  me  of  Heaven       .       .        .        .       .        .      Bowles.  270 

"  The  Land  which  no  Mortal  may  know  "    .    Bernard  Barton.  273 

Rest Montgomery.  293 

What  must  it  be  to  be  There! 307 

The  Celestial  City Busdan  Poetry.  308 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


VXQM 

The  Orientals  (Frontispiece) 1 

The  Refuge  from  the  Storm 29 

Angels  around  the  Throne 71 

Christ  Raising  Lazarus 131 

The  Crucifixion 177 

Glory  of  Christ 225 

The  Holy  City 275 


(vii) 


^f^^ 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S   GIFT. 


I. 

RUTH    AND    NAOMI. 

BY    BET.    ANDBBW    P.    PEABODY,    P.D. 

Literature  has  nothing  of  its  kind  that  will 
bear  comparison  with  the  touching  pastoral  of 
Kuthj  in  point  of  beauty,  pathos,  and  eloquent 
word-painting  of  the  purest  affections.  The  por- 
trait of  Boaz,  the  princely  husbandman,  —  his 
imstudied  courtesy,  his  profuse  hospitaHty,  his  mu- 
nificent charity,  his  rigid  uprightness, — is  drawn  in 
so  lifelike  colors,  as  to  evince  its  own  genuineness; 
nor  is  there  any  ancient  record,  which  stands  less 
in  need  of  external  proof  of  its  authenticity,  the 
whole  series  of  incidents  is  so  admirably  in  keep- 
ing with  the  blended  simplicity,  refinement,  and 
nobleness  of  patriarchal  times  and  manners.     But 

(9> 


10  THE  christian's    GIFT. 

the  two  personages  that  interest  us  the  most,  are 
Ruth  and  Naomi  in  their  relation  to  each  other,  — 
the  self-sacrificing  and  the  unexacting,  —  the  one 
the  type  of  what  the  young,  the  beautiful,  the 
strong  should  be ;  the  other,  of  what  the  afflicted, 
infirm,  and  aged  ought  to  be. 

Famine  has  driven  Naomi,  with  her  husband 
and  her  two  sons,  into  the  more  fertile  territory 
of  Moab.  For  awhile  they  are  prospered,  and  the 
sons  marry  daughters  of  the  land,  one  of  whom, 
Ruth,  according  to  venerable  Hebrew  tradition, 
was  allied  to  the  reigning  family.  But  father  and 
sons  pass  in  rapid  succession  to  the  grave;  and, 
with  the  home-longing  that  always  grows  upon 
the  aged,  Naomi  resolves  to  revisit  her  native 
soil,  and  in  her  penury  to  cast  herself  upon  the 
ample  charity  which  the  law  of  Moses  provides 
for  the  widow  and  the  fatherless.  What  a  rich  re- 
source for  domestic  toil  and  comfort,  for  her  relief 
in  want,  for  her  solace  in  loneliness,  for  kindly 
care  tinder  the  infirmities  of  growing  years,  would 
either  of  her  daughters-in-law  prove  to  her !  And 
they  are  both  ready  to  join  her.  Their  love  for 
the  departed  inspires  them  with  filial  tenderness 
for  the  living.     But  they  have  their  home  and 


I 


RUTH   AND    NAOML  11 

friends,  their  early  ties  and  fond  associations  with 
the  land  of  their  birth ;  and  in  JudaBa  all  will  be 
new  and  strange  to  them.  Naomi  earnestly  resists 
their  willing  sacrifice,  and  Orpah  yields  to  her 
entreaties.  But  Ruth  will  not  turn  back.  She 
knows,  indeed,  that  she  may  be  looked  upon  with 
suspicion  or  with  scorn  among  that  peculiar  peo- 
ple, of  sympathies  so  exclusive,  with  a  law,  a  faith, 
and  a  ritual  that  isolate  them  among  the  nations 
of  the  earth.  But,  come  what  will,  she  cannot 
suffer  the  desolate  widow  to  return  alone. 

They  arrive  at  Bethlehem,  where  a  new  genera- 
tion that  had  not  known  Naomi  has  taken  the 
place  of  her  kindred  and  early  friends.  They  are 
destitute,  and  among  strangers.  And  here  we  see 
renewed  the  loving  conflict  between  the  unselfish 
and  the  unexacting  spirit,  which  had  marked  their 
departure  from  Moab.  Euth's  whole  care  is  for  her 
mother's  sustenance,  ease,  and  comfort.  She  goes 
out  to  glean,  that  Naomi  may  live.  With  honest 
exultation,  she  pours  at  Naomi's  feet  each  day's 
fruits  of  her  own  industry  and  of  the  charity  of 
Boaz.  In  every  step  she  seeks  her  mother's  coun- 
sel, and  follows  her  direction ;  and  in  every  in- 
stance of  success,  it  is  for  her  mother  chiefly  that 


12  THE  christian's  GIFT. 

she  is  glad  Meanwhile,  Naomi's  constant  solici- 
tude is  for  Euth's  safety,  purity,  and  happiness. 
She  shows  not  a  trait  of  the  selfish,  exacting, 
querulous  spirit,  which  age  and  penury  are  so 
prone  to  bring,  when  unfortified  by  religious  faith 
and  principle.  She  cherishes  in  her  heart  of 
hearts  the  costly  sacrifice  of  country,  home,  and 
friends,  which  the  young  exile  had  made,  and  her 
incessant  effort  is  that  the  sacrifice  may  be  com- 
pensated by  respect,  honor,  and  prosperity  in  the 
land  of  her  sojourn.  Her  whole  life  seems  the 
counterpart  of  that  beautiful  benediction  of  Boaz, 
(was  a  richer  form  of  supplication  ever  uttered  ?  ) 
"  The  Lord  recompense  thy  work,  and  a  full  re- 
ward be  given  thee  of  the  Lord  God  of  Israel, 
under  whose  wings  thou  art  come  to  trust." 

The  uttered  prayer  of  the  princely  kinsman, 
the  dearest  wish  of  the  widow's  heart,  is  fulfilled. 
The  Moabitish  stranger  becomes  the  patriarch's 
bride  ;  and  as  her  first-bom  is  laid  in  Naomi's 
bosom,  the  widow's  cup  of  joy,  that  seemed  drained 
to  the  dregs,  is  again  full,  while  it  is  said  to  her, 
"  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  which  hath  not  left  thee 
without  a  kinsman,  that  his  name  may  be  famous 
in  Israel ;  and  he  shall  be  to  thee  a  restorer  of 


EUTH   AND    NAOMI.  13 

thy  life,  and  a  nourisher  of  thine  old  age,  for  thy 
daughter-in-law,  which  loveth  thee,  which  is  better 
to  thee  than  seven  sons,  hath  borne  him." 

Fit  mother  was  this  adopted  daughter  of  Israel 
for  the  royal  line  from  the  house  of  Judah.  Nor 
can  we  help  fancying,  —  it  may  be  mere  fancy, — 
that  the  fragrant  memory  of  her  virtues  dwelt  in 
the  land  of  her  birth,  no  less  than  in  that  of  her 
adoption,  and  that  for  her  sake,  kindness  and  pro- 
tection were  shown  to  her  posterity.  When  her 
illustrious  descendant,  David,  was  hunted  like  a 
wild  beast,  and  tracked  from  covert  to  covert  by 
the  wrath  of  Saul,  and  when  all  his  kindred  were 
marked  for  the  monarch's  vengeance,  he  went  to: 
the  king  of  Moab,  and  said,  "  Let  my  father  and 
mother,  I  pray  thee,  come  forth  and  be  with  you,, 
till  I  know  what  God  will  do  for  me ; "  and  the 
king  of  Moab  gave  them  shelter  and  protection^ 
Now,  as  the  story  of  Euth  and  this  incident  are 
the  only  two  cases  in  which  Israel  and  Moab  ap- 
pear under  any  relations  but  those  of  irreconcilar 
ble  hatred,  we  are  disposed  to  think  that  the  one 
led  to  the  other,  —  that  it  was  on  Euth's  account 
that  David  could  claim  and  secure  for  his  parents 
a  home  under  the  auspices  of  the  Moabitish  king. 

2 


14  THE    christian's    GIFT. 

Nor  is  it  without  satisfaction,  that  we  mark  the 
place  of  this  stranger  from  Moab  among  the  an- 
cestry of  our  Saviour.  She  breathed  the  spirit  of 
the  cross.  Her  self-sacrifice  was  entire,  unre- 
served, whole-hearted.  She  did,  she  gave,  she 
offered  what  she  could.  Such  spirits  as  hers  were 
kindled  by  the  foreshining  of  the  gospel  day. 
They  were  quickened  by  that  Divine  Word, 
which  was  in  the  world  from  the  beginning, 
though  it  first  became  flesh  and  pitched  its  taber- 
nacle among  men  in  Jesus  Christ.  May  it  not 
have  been  from  some  such  feeling  as  this,  —  from 
a  sense  of  peculiar  spiritual  kindred  between  her 
and  his  Divine  Master,  —  that  St.  Matthew,  in  his 
genealogy,  gives  her  name,  almost  alone,  among 
the  female  ancestry  of  Jesus  ? 

Our  main  purpose,  in  calling  attention  to  this 
narrative,  is  to  present  in  combination  the  correla- 
tive virtues  of  daughter  and  mother.  Kuth  and 
Naomi  belong  together,  are  members  of  the  same 
group,  and  reflect  beauty  on  each  other.  Change 
either  of  them,  —  the  other,  though  no  less  excel- 
lent, would  awaken  painful  feelings,  blending  pity 
with  our  approbation.  But,  matched  as  they  are, 
we  feel  that  there  is  between  them  mutual  com- 


I 


RUTH   AND    NAOMI.  15 

pensation  to  the  full.  Euth  is  rewarded  for  her 
sacrifice  by  the  unselfish  aiSection  and  devotion  of 
Naomi;  Naomi,  for  her  unwillingness  to  be  a 
restraint  or  burden  upon  her  daughter,  receives,  as 
a  freewill  offering  sevenfold  the  kindness  which 
an  exacting  spirit  can  extort,  whether  from  kin- 
dred or  hireling. 

There  are,  in  this  regard,  many  ill-matched 
pairs  and  groups,  —  Naomis  without  Kuths,  and 
Ruths  without  Naomis ;  and  in  domestic  and  social 
life,  there  are  few  more  repulsive  spectacles  than 
they  present. 

First,  there  is  the  Naomi  without  a  Euth.  Here 
there  comes  up  before  me  the  image  of  the  unex- 
acting  mother  in  the  decline  of  life.  In  the  days 
of  her  strength  she  lived  wholly  for  her  children. 
For  them  she  rose  early,  and  watched  late,  and 
ate  the  bread  of  carefulness.  Her  maternal  du- 
ties were  almost  her  only  pleasures.  She  prac- 
tised the  most  severe  economy,  that  they  might 
not  suffer,  in  comparison  with  their  companions, 
as  to  the  means  of  education  and  accomplishment. 
She  husbanded  her  resources,  that  her  straitened 
means  might  never  expose  them  to  mortification 
or  embarrassment.     It  would  seem  as  if  she  had 


16  THE   christian's    GIFT. 

coined  her  whole  being  into  provision  for  their 
welfare  and  happiness.  Even  now,  in  her  age 
and  infirmity,  she  requires  nothing  of  them.  She 
totters  around  under  the  burdens  of  domestic  care 
and  toil,  that  no  weight  may  bow  their  young 
shoulders,  that  no  routine  of  home-service  may 
restrict  the  buoyancy  of  their  spirits.  She  passes 
lonely  days,  and  prolongs  her  vigils  far  into  the 
night,  that  they  may  run  the  round  of  pleasure, 
and  let  no  flower  of  their  spring-time  bloom  un- 
gathered.  She  never  asks  them  for  her  sake  to 
yield  up  a  social  engagement,  or  to  shorten  their 
hours  of  gayety,  that  they  may  cheer  her  solitude, 
or  perform  those  loving  offices  in  her  frequent  ill- 
ness and  feebleness,  which  flow  with  so  sweet  a 
grace  from  a  daughter's  ministry.  She  w^ill  not 
consent  to  summon  them  over  from  their  sunshine 
to  her  shady  side  of  life.  Now  nothing  can  be 
more  rich  and  beautiful  than  this  spirit  on  the 
mother's  part,  when  the  children  are  assiduous  in 
proflering  the  unasked  sympathy,  the  unsolicited 
duty.  But  we  can  hardly  express  in  terms  too 
strong  our  indignation,  when  we  see  the  daughters 
of  such  a  parent  moving  as  in  a  sphere  exclu- 
sively their  own,  refusing  to  touch  with  a  finger 


RUTH   AND    NAOMI.  17 

the  burdens  that  she  has  so  long  borne  for  them, 
making  fashion,  pleasure,  frivolity,  the  supreme 
business  of  life,  and  even  in  their  mother's  hours 
of  sickness  and  suffering,  leaving  her  to  the  ten- 
der mercies  of  a  hireling.  True,  there  may  be 
nothing  needful  left  undone ;  but  to  the  mother, 
the  daughter's  voice,  and  smile,  and  hand,  are 
worth  more  than  the  most  costly  attention,  in 
which  the  affections  bear  no  part,  —  they  are  the 
alabaster  box  of  ointment  shedding  its  fragrance 
through  the  whole  house.  Where  they  are  want- 
ing, the  mother's  heart  pines  and  sickens.  She 
knows  not  how  to  command  or  exact ;  —  were 
the  thousand  offices  of  filial  piety  proffered,  she 
would  often  decline  them  in  her  disinterested  re- 
gard for  her  children's  health  and  happiness ;  yet 
the  withholding  of  them  creates  an  incessant  void, 
a  weariness  of  spirit  hardly  less  severe,  —  per 
haps  even  more  so  as  unrelieved  by  consoling  and 
hopeful  thoughts,  —  than  that  which  follows  be- 
reavement through  the  ministry  of  death. 

If  any  of  our  readers  have  begun  to  realize 
this  portrait  through  settled  selfishness,  we  can 
hardly  hope  to  reach  them  by  the  mere  reflection 

of  their  characters.     But  it  seems  to  us  that  many 

9  * 


18  THE    christian's    GIFT. 

well-disposed  young  persons  fall  thoughtlessly  into 
these  selfish  habits,  without  having  —  at  least  in 
the  outset  —  the  character  which  they  would  seem 
to  indicate.  They  imagine  that  the  unexacting 
parent  really  desires  and  needs  nothing  from 
them.  They  know  not  how  hard  it  is  for  a 
mother  to  ask  a  favor  or  a  sacrifice  of  her  child, 
—  how  strenuously  a  mother  will  toil,  and  how 
devotedly  suffer,  rather  than  thwart  a  child's  plans 
or  abridge  her  liberty.  They  fancy  that  her  non- 
remonstrance  implies  approval  of  their  mode  of 
life  ;  that  her  silence  gives  consent  to  their  omis- 
sion of  home  duty ;  that,  in  seconding  all  their 
projects  of  unrestrained  indulgence,  she  is  cor- 
dially willing  to  forego  their  society  and  kind 
offices.  But  what  begins  in  carelessness  grows 
into  obdurate  selfishness.  The  wrong  habit  de- 
velops the  vicious  principle.  The  neglect  of  the 
daily  sacrifice  on  the  home-altar  destroys  the  will 
and  the  power  to  offer  it. 

But  it  is  not  on  the  female  side  of  the  house 
alone,  that  we  find  these  ill-matched  groups.  Not 
unfrequently  we  see  the  father  performing  hard 
service,  the  son  at  his  ease;  the  father  toiling 
for  what  the  son  squanders,  the  father  bearing 


KUTH   AND  NAOMI.  19 

burdens  beyond  his  years ;  the  son  taking  advan 
tage  of  parental  indulgence  to  lead  a  life  without 
care,  or,  it  may  be,  a  life  of  wasteful  pleasure  and 
guilty  excess. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  are  compelled,  some- 
times, to  see  Ruth  without  Naomi,  —  the  spirit 
of  voluntary,  cheerful  self-sacrifice  divorced  from 
the  unexacting  generosity,  which  alone  is  ibs  fit- 
ting counterpart.  We  miss  the  temper  of  Naomi 
in  those  sick  and  infirm  persons  who  deem  them- 
selves licensed  to  complain,  whom  no  service  sat- 
isfies, whom  no  attention  suits,  whom  kindness 
only  excites  to  new  exactions,  who  are  offended 
by  a  happy  face  or  a  cheerful  voice,  and  who 
feel  as  if  the  sky  ought  to  be  hung  in  mourning 
and  the  earth  dissolved  in  tears,  whenever  they 
have  an  hour  of  illness  or  suffering.  We  miss  it 
in  those  poor  persons,  who,  like  the  daughters  of 
the  horseleech,  perpetually  cry  "  Give,  give," 
who  take  with  murmuring  the  services  of  the 
freest  hand  and  the  most  loving  heart,  whose 
claims  outrun  their  necessities,  and  grow  with 
their  gratification.  We  miss  it  in  those  aged  per- 
sons who  have  no  sympathy  with  the  brightness 
and  buoyancy  of  youth,  who  w  ould  be  approached 


20  THE   christian's    GIFT. 

onl}^  with  muffled  tread  and  subdued  voice,  and 
would  restrain  the  young  and  gay  from  whatever 
indulgences  and  pleasures  they  can  no  longer 
enjoy.  Where  there  is  not  the  apology  of  age, 
we  may  see  the  same  type  of  character  in  the 
stern  and  gloomy  laws  which  parents  would  some- 
times impose  on  the  light  step  and  bounding  heart 
of  childhood,  —  in  the  attempt  to  bow  the  youthful 
spirit  into  such  stillness  and  sobriety  as  may  quiet 
the  undisciplined  nerves,  and  suit  the  fastidious 
standard  of  those  who  forget  that  they  themselves 
ever  were  children. 

In  the  conjugal  relation,  the  self-sacrificing  and 
the  exacting  are  sometimes  most  incongruously 
paired.  The  wife,  perhaps,  is  all  devotion,  making 
her  husband's  will,  taste,  freak,  or  whim,  her  sa- 
cred law,  watching  his  varying  mood,  studying  his 
fancies,  anticipating  his  least  wants;  w^hile  he  is 
entirely  a  law  unto  himself,  living  as  if  he  were 
made  to  be  ministered  unto,  and  she  to  be  the  ser- 
vant of  servants,  exacting  minute  compliance  with 
his  incalculable  caprice,  and  vexed  by  whatever 
cannot  adjust  itself  to  a  temper  which  nothing  in 
heaven  or  earth  could  ever  suit.  Or,  perhaps,  but 
more  rarely,  the  husband  is  self-sacrificing  to  the 


RUTH  AND   NAOMI.  21 

last  degree,  faithful  in  every  provision  for  the  pos- 
sible need  and  comfort  of  his  household,  persever- 
ing in  his  devotion  to  their  happiness ;  while  the 
wife  constantly  demands  indulgences  beyond  his 
condition,  luxuries  beyond  his  means,  a  free  range 
among  the  gayeties  and  frivolities  of  life,  that  is 
fatal  to  his  comfort,  and  turns  his  uncomplaining 
services  and  sacrifices  to  the  disturbance  of  his 
peace,  and  the  perversion  of  his  home  enjoyment. 

Though  in  all  these  cases  the  spirit  of  sacrifice 
wins  only  the  higher  praise  and  warmer  admira- 
tion, because  so  unworthily  reciprocated,  we  can- 
not witness  such  instances  without  a  painful  sense 
of  moral  fitness  violated ;  and  we  are  sometimes 
disposed  to  hurl  at  the  selfish  party,  a  keen  missile 
from  the  armory  of  the  revealed  word,  and  to  say 
to  those  who  make  such  costly  sacrifices,  "  Give 
not  that  which  is  holy  unto  dogs,  neither  cast  ye 
your  pearls  before  swine ;  for  see  ye  not  how  they 
perpetually  trample  them  under  their  feet,  and 
turn  again  and  rend  you." 

God  hath  made  every  thing  beautiful  in  its 
place  and  season,  and  nothing  more  so  than  the 
sacrificing  and  the  unexacting  spirit,  fitly  joined 
together  in  mutual  ministries.     Never  is  youth  so 


22  THE  christian's  gift. 

cliarming,  as  when  it  loves  to  blend  its  morning 
beams  with  the  clouded  sunset  of  age  and  infirm- 
ity. Never  does  health  present  so  attractive  a 
spectacle,  as  when  it  stoops  to  bear  the  burden  of 
sickness  and  decrepitude,  sustains  the  suffering, 
watches  by  the  dying.  Nowhere  is  beauty  so 
lovely,  as  when  it  shines  with  modest  grace  for 
the  parent's  eye,  lights  up  with  its  smile  the  home 
of  want  and  sorrow,  and  cheers  the  lonely  and 
desolate  with  its  angel  ministries.  And  who  does 
not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  thank  God  for  the 
wealth,  which  only  makes  its  possessor  the  al- 
moner of  the  Divine  bounty,  which  has  always  its 
portion  for  the  fatherless  and  the  widow,  w^hich 
finds  its  choicest  luxury  in  kindling  the  fire  and 
spreading  the  table  for  the  needy,  which  rejoices 
in  affluence  and  leisure  only  that  they  may  be 
spent  in  going  about  doing  good  ?  Equally  lovely 
are  all  the  forms  of  sickness,  infirmity,  penury, 
and  affliction,  when  the  sufferer  always  asks  less 
and  owns  more  than  he  receives,  when  no  voice 
of  complaint  chills  the  kind  hearts  around,  when 
there  is  still  unabated  satisfaction  in  the  happiness 
of  others,  and  gladness  in  the  abundance  of  God's 
gifts,  however  few  of  them  he  may  be  able  to 
enjoy. 


RUTH   AND    NAOMI.  23 

We  all  of  us  are  liable  at  any  moment  to 
change  places,  and  the  Ruth  of  to-day  may  in 
need  or  grief  be  the  Naomi  of  to-morrow.  We 
all  have  kindnesses  to  bestow,  we  all  need  sacri- 
fices at  the  hand  of  others.  Yet,  in  our  diversi- 
ties of  relation,  age,  and  condition,  we  may  divide 
ourselves  into  two  classes,  —  those  whose  place  it 
is  to  minister ;  those  whose  privilege  it  is  to  be 
ministered  unto.  Into  the  former  class  fall  the 
young,  healthy  and  prosperous;  into  the  latter, 
the  aged,  infirm,  poor,  and  grief  stricken.  In  gen- 
eral, it  is  only  the  Ruths  that  become  Naomis; 
only  those  endowed,  while  they  can  exercise  it, 
with  the  spirit  of  willing  sacrifice,  who  in  their 
need  are  unexacting,  uncomplaining  receivers  and 
beneficiaries.  Selfish  youth  lapses  into  peevish 
and  querulous  age.  He,  who  is  selfish  in  health, 
is  repining  and  fretful  in  sickness.  He,  who  is  sel- 
fish in  prosperity,  is  an  implacable  complainer  in 
adversity,  an  insatiable  beggar  in  poverty.  Let 
the  young  remember  this.  Deem  it,  reader,  a 
privilege  to  yield,  to  sacrifice,  to  minister,  to  do 
what  in  you  lies  to  lighten  every  burden,  to  cheer 
the  desolate,  and  to  bind  up  the  broken  heart. 
Your  turn  for  such  offices  will  come  soon  enough ; 


THE   CHRISTIAN  S   GIFT. 


and  then,  in  cheerfulness  and  resignation  within, 
in  the  full  flow  of  kindness  from  without,  and  in 
your  unselfish  gratitude  for  every  relief  and 
favor,  you  will  reap  the  rich  harvest  of  your  early 
charity  and  self-surrender.  Give,  and  it  shall  be 
given  to  you.  Show  mercy,  and  you  shall  receive 
it.  Cherish  the  spirit  of  sacrifice,  and  it  shall  be 
rendered  back  to  you  an  hundred-fold  in  the  life 
that  now  is,  while  a  still  nobler  recompense 
awaits  you  in  the  resurrection  of  the  just. 


V 


THE  RESOLUTION   OF  RUTH.  25 


THE    RESOLUTION    OF    RUTH. 

"  Farewell  ?    O  no  !  it  may  not  be ; 

My  firm  resolve  is  heard  on  high : 
I  will  not  breathe  farewell  to  thee, 

Save  only  in  my  dying  sigh. 
I  know  not  that  I  now  could  bear 

For  ever  from  thy  side  to  part, 
And  live  without  a  friend  to  share 

The  treasured  sadness  of  my  heart. 

"  I  did  not  love  in  former  years 

To  leave  thee  solitary :  now, 
When  sorrow  dims  thine  eyes  with  tears, 

And  shades  the  beauty  of  thy  brow, 
I  '11  share  the  trial  and  the  pain ; 

And  strong  the  furnace  fires  must  be, 
To  melt  away  the  willing  chain 

That  binds  a  daughter's  heart  to  thee. 

"  I  will  not  boast  a  martyr's  might 

To  leave  my  home  without  a  sigh  — 
The  dwelling  of  my  past  delight. 

The  shelter  where  I  hoped  to  die. 
In  such  a  duty,  such  an  hour. 

The  weak  are  strong,  the  timid  brave ; 
For  Love  puts  on  an  angel's  power, 

And  faith  grows  mightier  than  the  grave. 

3 


26  THE  christian's  gift. 

"  It  was  not  so,  ere  he  we  loved, 

And  vainly  strove  with  death  to  save, 
Heard  the  low  call  of  Death  and  moved 

With  holy  calmness  to  the  grave, 
Just  at  that  brightest  hour  of  youth 

When  life  spread  out  before  us  lay, 
And  charmed  us  with  its  lores  of  truth, 

And  colors  radiant  as  the  day. 

"  Yet  rays  of  heaven,  serenely  bright, 

Have  gilt  the  caverns  of  the  tomb ; 
And  I  can  ponder  with  delight, 

On  all  its  gathering  thoughts  of  gloom. 
Then  mother,  let  us  haste  away 

To  that  blest  land  to  Israel  given. 
Where  faith  unsaddened  by  decay 

Dwells  nearest  to  its  native  heaven. 

"  And  where  thou  goest  I  will  go ; 

With  thine  my  earthly  lot  is  cast ; 
In  pain  and  pleasure,  joy  and  wo, 

Will  I  attend  thee  to  the  last. 
That  hour  shall  find  me  by  thy  side ; 

And  where  thy  grave  is,  mine  shall  be ; 
Death  can  but  for  a  time  divide 

My  firm  and  faithful  heart  from  thee." 


RUTH.  27 


WHERE  HAST   THOU   GLEANED? 
Ruth  ii.  19. 

"  Where  hast  thou  gleaned  to-day,  immortal  one  ? 

In  paths  of  sensual  pleasure,  where  the  flowers 
Of  earthly  fragrance  have  thy  pathway  strown  — 

And  didst  thou  rest  in  those  terrestrial  bowers  ? 
Young  pilgrim !  f>luck  them  not,  they  '11  wither  on  the  way, 
But  gather  that  which  nourisheth,  while  yet 't  is  called  to-day. 

"Where  hast  thou  gleaned  to-day  ?     In  scanty  fields 

Of  poverty  and  wretchedness  and  wo  ? 
That  barren  ground  yet  rich  instruction  yields. 

Unfolding  lessons  it  is  good  to  know. 
Ne'er  may  the  smiles  of  Heaven,  which  hover  o'er  thy  lot. 
Be  in  the  daily  sacrifice  unnumbered  or  forgot. 

"  Where  hast  thou  gleaned  to-day  ?    Amid  the  strife 
Of  those  who  sow,  to  reap  and  gather  gold  ? 
Leave  —  leave  this  waste  and  weariness  of  life, 
And  reap  ye  —  gather  ye  that  wealth  untold. 
Which  to  your  earthly  course  will  be  *  the  pearl  of  price,' 
And  open  for  the  humble  one  the  gate  of  Paradise. 

"Where  hast  thou  gleaned  to-day?    The  ample  plain 

Where  Knowledge  spreads  her  banquet  —  where  the  tide 
Of  intellect  sweeps  through  the  broad  domain, 
In  all  its  depth  and  power  and  pomp  and  pride  — 


THE   christian's   GIFT. 


Say,  hast  thou  grasped  at  shadows,  which  the  sun 
Of  pure  religion  hath  not  shone  upon  ? 

"  Where  hast  thou  gleaned  to-day  ?     From  Wisdom's  page. 
Where  Truth  her  heavenly  banner  hath  unfurled  ? 
Where  priests  and  prophets  have,  from  age  to  age, 

Foretold  the  glories  of  the  eternal  world  ? 
Then  linger  here,  immortal  one,  nor  let  thy  footsteps  stray 
From  Him  who  is  the  Holy  one  — '  the  Life,  the  Truth,  the 
Way/" 


IT. 

A  REFUGE  FROM  THE  STORM. 

BY  RIGHT  EEV.   THOMAS   M.    CLARK,   D.  D. 


It  is  not  always  that  we  feel  the  conscious  need 
of  supernatural  help.  Difficulties  sometimes  arise, 
which  our  own  wisdom  can  solve;  fears  disturb 
us,  which  a  cheerful  voice  can  dissipate;  trials 
occur,  which  human  sympathy  can  alleviate.  But 
there  are  emergencies,  when  we  are  driven  home 
to  God.  And  then  we  must  grasp  an  arm  that  is 
not  made  of  flesh.  We  must  open  our  minds  to 
a  mind  that  is  not  human.  We  must  ascend  to  a 
higher  level  than  the  plane  of  earth.  We  must 
get  clear  of  the  turmoil  of  polemics.  We  must 
find  our  way  to  God,  and  hear  from  his  lips  the 
words,  "  This  is  the  way,  walk  ye  in  it." 

Such  a  season  is  that,  when  the  clouds  of  doubt 
gather  over  the  horizon,  and  obscure  the  sun  of 

3*  (29) 


30  THE    christian's    GIFT. 

truth.  Every  human  being,  who  uses  his  faculties 
with  earnestness,  is  subject  to  this  trial.  It  is  one 
of  the  appointed  elements  of  our  discipline. 
There  could  be  no  true  faith,  if  unbelief  were 
impossible.  It  would  have  been  perfectly  easy 
for  God  to  have  rendered  all  spiritual  truths  so 
certain,  that  we  could  not  have  doubted.  He 
might  have  authenticated  them  through  the  same 
kind  of  evidence,  by  which  we  distinguish  the 
night  from  the  day.  But,  in  this  case,  they  would 
have  lost  half  their  value.  For  the  moral  process 
by  which  we  arrive  at  truth,  is  as  important  to  us 
as  the  truth  itself  It  is  for  this  reason  that  the 
Bible  is  so  constructed,  as  to  leave  the  door  open 
for  interminable  discussions  and  endless  variations 
of  opinion.  The  interpretation  depends  upon  the 
condition  of  mind  which  we  bring  to  its  study. 
Its  plastic  truth  is  moulded  into  shape  by  the  form 
of  the  soul  that  receives  it.  The  Divine  wisdom 
is  presented  to  us  through  the  medium  of  human 
intellects,  and  is  variously  tinged  by  the  various 
channels  through  which  it  comes.  Light  is  color- 
less, and  so  itself  is  never  seen;  but  it  makes 
objects  visible,  w^hen  it  falls  upon  them;  and  it 
does  this,  by  being  resolved   into   its  prismatic 


A  REFUGE  FROM  THE  STORM.  31 

hues.  So  the  pure  truth  of  God  is  inappreciable 
by  finite  faculties;  but  when  it  is  repeated,  de- 
compounded, modified  by  passing  through  the 
atmospheres  of  human  thought,  it  lights  up  the 
universe  with  splendor.  And  we  receive  just  so 
much  of  that  truth  as  we  are  capable  of  receiving. 
We  may,  if  we  will,  close  the  windows  of  the 
soul  against  the  light,  so  that  midnight  shall  reign 
there ;  or  the  fogs  of  prejudice  may  so  envelop 
the  soul,  that  it  is  only  twilight  there  ;  or  we  may 
throw  the  soul  wide  open,  and  then  we  enjoy  the 
fulness  of  knowledge,  and  the  repose  of  implicit 
faith. 

All  this  being  so,  there  may  be  times  when 
every  thing  falls  into  confusion.  The  evidence  of 
truth,  upon  which  we  once  confidently  rested, 
crumbles  away.  Our  forms  of  belief  sound  dry 
and  hollow.  And  yet  it  is  not  the  scepticism  of 
indifierence  which  troubles  us,  —  that  is  never 
troublesome  to  its  subject,  —  but  of  a  deeper 
earnestness ;  we  long  for  a  real  belief,  for  some- 
thing upon  which  we  can  rely  in  any  emergency, 
for  a  faith  which  can  light  up  the  passage  to  the 
tomb,  and  usher  us  peacefully  into  eternity.  How 
much  there  is  professed,  which  is  not  thus  be- 


32  THE  christian's  gift. 

lieved ;  as  if  the  benefits  of  faith  could  be  had, 
merely  if  we  do  not  deny  the  faith ! 

In  this  state  of  mental  disquietude,  when  the 
honest  tongue  falters  in  pronouncing  the  accus- 
tomed creed,  and  every  argument  seems  unsatis- 
factory, when  the  processes  of  our  own  thoughts 
jostle  and  overturn  each  other,  and  the  mind 
longs  for  some  demonstration  which  cannot  be 
gainsayed,  there  is  always  one  place  of  refuge, — 
in  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty's  wings  we  can 
find  a  shelter,  until  the  calamity  be  overpast.  If 
we  only  flee  thither,  we  may  be  sure  that,  sooner 
or  later,  the  hour  of  darkness  will  pass  by.  Per- 
haps it  was  allowed  to  descend  upon  the  soul,  just 
to  drive  us  to  God.  This  may  be  our  first  act  of 
real  faith.  Confidence  in  God  is  the  seminal  prin- 
ciple of  all  genuine  belief  If  we  have  absolute 
trust  in  Him,  we  cannot  go  far  astray.  And  near- 
ness to  God  is  our  only  effectual  security  against 
the  assaults  of  scepticism.  All  error  and  all  sin 
consist  in  wandering  away  from  God.  In  His 
presence  we  are  safe;  away  from  Him,  all  is 
dreariness  and  darkness.  Man  was  never  made  to 
be  independent  of  his  Maker.  The  instinct  with 
which  a  child,  in  the  hour  of  dimness  and  bewil- 


A  REFUGE  FROM  THE  STORM.  33 

derment,  clings  to  his  father,  dreading  to  be  left 
alone,  shuddering  at  his  own  fancies,  and  shrink- 
ing from  his  own  thoughts,  is  an  expressive  type 
of  the  higher  feeling  with  which  we  should  cleave 
to  our  Father  who  is  in  heaven.  We  have  a 
Father,  and  he  is  not  far  from  any  one  of  us. 
He  hears  our  jSrst  low  cry,  if  it  be  only  breathed 
in  faith.  He  will  never  desert  us,  unless  we  de- 
sert Him. 

"  O  come  that  day,  when  in  this  restless  heart 

Earth  shall  resign  her  part, 
When  in  the  grave  with  Christ  my  limbs  shall  rest,. 

My  soul  with  Him  be  blest ! 
But  stay,  presumptuous  —  Christ  with  thee  abides 

In  the  rock's  dreary  sides ; 
He  from  the  stone  will  wring  celestial  dew. 
If  but  the  prisoner's  heart  be  faithful,  kind,  and  true." 

There  is  another  emergency  in  which  we  have 
no  other  refuge  but  God,  and  that  is  when  we 
are  burdened  with  the  consciousness  of  guilt.  I 
have  said  that  all  sin  consists  in  wandering  away 
from  God,  and  so  repentance  consists  in  simply 
returning  to  God.  Whenever  the  transgressor 
"  comes  to  himself,"  he  immediately  says,  "  I  will 
arise  and  go  to  my  Father." 


34  THE  christian's  gift. 

It  seems  like  a  season  of  dire  calamity,  when 
the  offender  first  becomes  conscious  of  his  sin,  — 
although,  indeed,  it  is  the  unconscious  sin  that 
we  have  most  cause  to  fear,  —  for  this  hour  of 
conviction  is  often  one  of  strong  crying  and  tears, 
and  we  taste  the  full  bitterness  of  death.  The 
stricken  transgressor  feels  that  he  is  cut  off  from 
God,  and  the  sense  of  dreary  isolation  weighs 
heavily  upon  him.  The  shades  of  night  are  gath- 
ering around,  and  he  finds  himself  in  a  strange 
country,  alone.  He  is  lost  among  the  dark  moun- 
tains. The  sun  has  gone  down,  and  no  stars  shine. 
There  is  not  a  gleam  of  light  in  earth  or  in 
heaven.  The  wind  sweeps  as  from  the  valleys, 
laden  with  cold  vapors.  He  cries  for  help,  but 
no  human  ear  can  hear.  He  has  gone  out  from 
his  home  and  is  lost.  His  case  seems  hopeless. 
It  would  be  hopeless,  but  for  one  fact,  God  has 
never  ceased  to  remember  him,  all  the  while  that 
he  has  forgotten  his  God.  There  is  a  merciful 
eye  that  has  watched  his  every  footstep.  A 
father's  love  will  not  allow  him  to  desert  his  off- 
spring, even  though  they  prove  themselves  un- 
worthy of  his  love.  And  when  his  sins  and  his 
sufferings  have  brought  the  erring  child  to  his 


A   REFUGE   FROM   THE   STORM.  35 

knees,  so  that  he  loathes  his  sin  and  ceases  to 
repine  at  his  sufferings,  then  the  Lord  manifests 
himself,  and  the  Angel  of  the  Covenant  draws 
near.  The  discipline  of  sorrow  has  done  its  work, 
Calvary  opens,  and  in  that  sure  refuge  he  finds 
rest  and  peace  to  his  soul. 

And  these  are  calamities  that  come  upon  us  in 
the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  in  which  there  is 
only  one  effectual  refuge.  We  meet  with  disap- 
pointments and  losses,  which  our  own  energy  can 
redress  or  repair.  When  we  strike  the  earth,  we 
rebound  by  our  own  elastic  force,  only  to  stand 
firmer  than  before.  But  these  are  trials  in  which 
our  natural  strength  fails  us.  They  are  such  as 
time  can  never  heal,  and  no  human  power  alle- 
viate. They  make  the  world  another  place  to 
what  it  was  before.  It  never  afterwards  looks  as 
it  once  did.  In  our  most  cheerful  hours,  when 
the  brightest  smile  lights  up  the  face,  there  is  one 
chord  in  our  secret  heart  that  vibrates  mournfully. 
When  the  landscape  looks  fairest  and  Nature  keeps 
her  merriest  holiday,  there  is  one  small  green 
mound  more  precious  to  us  than  all  the  world 
beside.  It  seems  strange  that  the  earth  should 
contijiue  to  bring  forth  her  flowers.     The  moan- 


36  THE  christian's  gift. 

ing  winds  of  autumn  suit  us  better  than  the  lively 
carols  of  spring.  There  are  memories  of  which 
we  do  not  often  speak,  because  words  cannot  utter 
them,  that  are  never  absent  from  our  thoughts. 
There  are  precious  tones,  perhaps,  forgotten  long 
ago  by  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  which  come  to 
us  every  night  in  the  stillness,  and  fill  the  air  with 
mournful  melody. 

Up  to  the  hour  when  this  stern  sorrow  fell  upon 
us,  the  resources  of  earth  and  our  own  energy 
had  sufficed  for  every  emergency.  But  under 
this  blow,  the  soul  is  broken.  Nature  gives  way. 
There  is  no  shelter  here  from  the  storm.  And 
then,  in  our  desolation,  we  look  up  to  God  and 
say,  "  In  the  shadow  of  thy  wings  will  I  make  my 
refuge,  until  these  calamities  be  overpast."  The 
calamity  is  not  overpast,  but  we  have  found 
strength  to  bear  it.  The  fountain  of  sorrow  is 
not  dried,  and  we  have  no  wish  that  it  should  be, 
for  we  have  received  blessing  from  its  bitter 
waters.  Our  trials  have  bound  us  closer  to  our 
God.  We  have  Him  for  our  portion,  whatever 
else  be  wanting.  The  world  hangs  more  loosely, 
it  is  bereft  of  many  charms,  it  has  ceased  to  stir 
our  ambition,  and  its  pleasures  have  lost  their  old 


A  REFUGE  FROM  THE  STORM.  37 

attractiveness,  but  there  are  bonds  of  sympathy 
which  now  connect  us  with  other  worlds,  which 
are  more  abiding.  Truths  have  become  real, 
which  had  no  such  reality  before.  We  have  seen 
the  face  of  Christ,  and  heard  gracious  words  from 
his  lips.  We  know  the  purpose  of  his  mediation, 
for  we  have  experienced  its  necessity.  Our  relig- 
ion is  now  a  life,  and  not  a  dogma ;  a  substance, 
and  not  a  shadow ;  something  which  we  can 
grasp,  and  feel,  and  stay  ourselves  by  in  any  ex- 
tremity. Death  is  disrobed  of  half  his  terrors; 
we  feel  that  it  is  his  touch  which  throws  open 
the  door  of  existence.  Through  the  darkness  of 
our  present  affliction,  we  see  the  gleaming  of 
bright  stars  above.  The  fears  which  once  haunted 
us  are  gone,  for  perfect  love  has  cast  them  out. 
We  have  new  "  songs  in  the  night,"  which  fill 
the  soul  with  happiness.  Christ  dwelleth  in  us, 
and  we  cannot  fear  what  man  or  demon  can  do 
unto  us. 

The  one  deep  sorrow  that  we  have  experi- 
enced, has  lightened  and  relieved  every  other 
sorrow. 

"  O  Father  of  our  spirits, 

We  can  but  look  to  Thee ; 

4 


THE    CHRISTIANS    GIFT. 

Though  chastened,  not  forsaken, 
Shall  we  Thy  children  be. 

We  take  the  cup  of  sorrow, 
As  did  His  blessed  Son,  — 

Teach  us  to  say,  with  Jesus, 
Thy  will,  not  ours,  be  done." 


GOD    AN   UNFAILING    REFUGE. 

The  smoothest  seas  will  sometimes  prove 

To  the  conjfiding  bark  untrue ; 
And  if  she  trusts  the  stars  above. 

They  can  be  treacherous  too. 

The  umbrageous  oak,  in  pomp  outspread, 
Full  oft  when  storms  the  welkin  rend. 

Draws  lightning  down  upon  the  head 
It  promised  to  defend. 

But  thou  art  true,  incarnate  Lord, 
Who  didst  vouchsafe  for  man  to  die ; 

Thy  smile  is  sure,  thy  plighted  word 
No  change  can  falsify ! 

I  bent  before  thy  gracious  throne 

And  asked  for  peace  with  suppliant  knee  ; 

And  peace  was  given  —  nor  peace  alone. 
But  faith,  and  hope,  and  ecstasy. 

WOKDSWORTH. 


III. 

THE    SABBATH    IN    ITS   ADAPTEDNESS   TO 
PREPARE    MEN    FOR    HEAVEN. 

BY    BEV.    WILLIAM    B.    SPRAGUE,    D.  D. 


In  what  I  am  to  say  of  the  Sabbath  in  this  arti- 
cle, I  shall,  of  course,  recognize  the  institution  in  its 
legitimate  connections.  The  day  may  indeed  be 
passed,  and  profitably  passed,  in  silence  and  soli- 
tude. The  Christian  may  stop  in  the  bosom  of 
the  wilderness,  with  nothing  but  God's  heavens 
for  a  canopy ;  and  there  may  be  no  sound  there 
unless  it  be  the  music  of  the  birds,  save  only  his 
own  voice  uttering  the  accents  of  supplication 
and  praise ;  and  still  the  gracious  design  of  the 
Sabbath  may  be  accomplished  in  respect  to  him  ; 
he  may  have,  like  the  Patriarch,  visions  of 
heaven,  and  may  leave  the  place  calling  it 
Bethel.     But  in  order  to  complete  the  idea  of 

(39) 


40 


THE   CHRISTIAN  S    GIFT. 


the  Sabbath,  we  must  include  the  ordinances 
which  God  has  been  pleased  to  connect  with  it; 
—  every  religious  privilege,  public  or  private, 
which  it  brings  within  our  reach.  However  it 
may  be  with  many  of  our  fellow-creatures, — 
with  many  even  of  our  own  countrymen,  —  to 
most  of  those  whose  eyes  will  pass  over  this  page, 
it  is  given  to  enjoy  a  full  Sabbath :  there  is  noth- 
ing that  they  could  ask,  nothing  that  they  could 
even  imagine,  that  would  cause  the  day  to  return 
upon  them  more  richly  charged  with  blessing. 

Let  me  say  then,  in  illustration  of  my  subject, 
the  Sabbath  is  a  noble  and  impressive  symlol  of 
heaven. 

God  hath  given  to  every  thing  a  voice ;  hath 
constituted  every  thing  a  teacher;  and  there  is 
no  object  or  event  so  obscure  or  insignificant,  but 
that  it  is  always  giving  forth  some  lesson  to  man 
in  respect  to  his  higher  and  better  interests.  The 
Son  of  God  is  indeed  the  great  Teacher,  —  the 
fountain  of  illumination ;  but  He  disdains  not  to 
employ  as  subordinate  coworkers  with  Himself, 
the  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  —  the  mechanism  of 
nature,  the  economy  of  providence, —  every  thing 
that  comes  within  the  range  of  our  vision  or  the 


THE  SABBATH  AND  HEAVEN.  41 

sphere  of  our  knowledge.  And  it  is  a  proof  of 
his  sublime  wisdom  that  he  should  have  estab- 
lished this  universal  ministry  of  good,  so  that 
man,  be  he  wheresoever  he  may,  is  always  within 
hearing  of  his  Maker's  voice.  The  method  of 
teaching  by  symbols,  dates  back  to  the  first  morn- 
ing that  smiled  upon  the  creation ;  for  that  was  a 
Sabbath  morning ;  and  the  Sabbath  was,  from  the 
beginning,  an  emblem  of  the  rest  that  remainett 
for  the  people  of  God.  How  far  this  may  have 
been  understood  in  the  earlier  ages  of  the  world, 
we  cannot  determine ;  but  in  the  light  of  suc- 
ceeding centuries,  especially  in  the  light  of  the 
Christian  dispensation,  it  is  put  beyond  all  ques- 
tion that  this  sacred  day  was  designed  by  God 
himself,  to  be  an  illustrious  type,  —  I  had  almost 
said,  a  beautiful  miniature  likeness,  of  heaven. 

Behold,  then,  how  the  Sabbath,  in  its  symbols 
ical  character,  lends  its  influence  in  aid  of  man's 
preparation  for  the  heavenly  state!  It  returns 
upon  the  multitude  whose  spirits  have  never 
been  attuned  to  the  joys  of  heaven,  to  remind 
them  that  there  is  a  heaven ;  and  how  naturally 
does  this  become  the  starting  point  to  a  course 
of  serious  reflection !  If  there  is  a  heaven,  so 
4* 


42  THE  christian's  gift. 

also  there  is  a  hell;  and  here  is  the  dread  alter- 
native in  respect  to  my  future  being.  If  there 
is  a  heaven,  then  there  must  be  certain  qualifica- 
tions requisite  to  obtain  it;  —  but  have  I  the  least 
evidence  of  having  gained  these  qualifications? 
If  there  is  a  heaven,  there  surely  is  no  time  to 
be  lost  in  securing  a  title  to  it;  and  wherefore 
am  I  thus  indifferent  when  immortal  interests  are 
depending  ?  Let  me  awake  to  a  sense  of  the 
needs  of  my  impoverished  spirit ;  —  to  a  sense  of 
what  I  may  gain  on  the  one  hand  and  what  I 
may  lose  on  the  other ;  and  let  me  welcome  the 
rebuke  which  these  sacred  hours  bring  to  me  for 
having  been  so  absorbed  with  my  relations  to 
earth,  as  to  neglect  to  form  any  relations  with 
heaven ! 

Still  more  impressive  is  this  sjonbolic  teaching 
of  the  Sabbath,  in  regard  to  those  who  have  al- 
ready the  seeds  of  the  heavenly  life.  Notwith- 
standing God  has  marked  them  as  the  heirs  of  his 
kingdom,  and  they  are  accustomed  to  look  up- 
ward when  they  think  of  their  richest  treasures, 
still  their  spiritual  perceptions  are  often  dimmed, 
and  their  spiritual  sensibilities  often  chilled ;  and 
if  you   can  trace  in  their  characters  the   image 


THE  SABBATH  AND  HEAVEN.  43 

of  the  heavenly,  it  is,  at  best,  in  feeble  and 
dubious  lines.  To  these  also,  to  all  who  pro- 
fess to  be  citizens  of  Zion,  the  Sabbath  speaks  in 
tones  of  celestial  sweetness,  bidding  them  remem- 
ber the  glorious  rest  to  which  they  are  bound. 
The  voice  of  God  seems  to  mingle  itself  with  its 
morning  beams,  as  they  fly  over  the  creation, 
saying  to  every  follower  of  Jesus,  —  "  Let  thy  soul 
rise  and  stretch  its  wings  towards  thy  destined 
home.  Whilst  thou  art  yet  a  sojourner  on  earth, 
cultivate  the  spirit  of  heaven,  and  give  to  thine 
affections  more  and  more  an  upward  tendency." 
Yes,  Christian,  the  Sabbath,  merely  as  a  symbol, 
and  independently  of  the  exalted  privileges  which 
it  brings  with  it,  is  for  ever  preaching  to  thee  con- 
cerning heaven;  and  in  proportion  as  thine  ear 
is  open  to  the  teachings  of  the  one,  will  thine  eye 
be  open  to  the  glories  of  the  other. 

The  Sabbath  is  fitted  to  counteract  those  hab- 
its and  influences,  which  are  adverse  to  our  obtain- 
ing heaven.  Here,  again,  I  speak  in  reference  to 
both  those  who  have  not,  and  those  wdio  have, 
entered  on  the  Christian  life. 

One  great  hinderance  to  our  preparation  for 
heaven  is  ignorance.     The  object  of  religious  faith 


44  THE  christian's  gift. 

is  the  divine  testimony ;  and  that  testimony  may 
embrace  subjects  which,  in  their  remoter  bearings, 
we  cannot  comprehend ;  but  we  must  know  what 
the  testimony  really  is,  otherwise  it  is  impossible 
that  we  should  receive  it ;  so  that  what  is,  in  one 
sense,  an  object  of  faith,  ^s,  in  another,  an  object 
of  knowledge.  Now  there  is  something  in  the 
Bible,  revealed  to  our  faith,  which  the  Bible  itself 
makes  essential  to  salvation ;  for  its  own  language 
is,  —  "  He  that  believeth  shall  be  saved,"  and  "  He 
that  believeth  not  is  condemned  already."  But 
if  knowledge,  in  the  sense  of  which  I  have 
spoken,  is  a  prerequisite  to  faith, — in  other  words, 
if  we  must  know  what  God  requires  us  to  beheve, 
before  we  can  believe  it,  then  is  knowledge,  (I 
speak  here  of  those  only  who  have  the  means  of 
knowledge,)  a  no  less  essential  requisite  to  our 
obtaining  heaven. 

What  is  true  of  faith  is  equally  true  of  repent- 
ance,—  another  of  the  grand  qualifications  for 
heaven.  You  cannot  exercise  genuine  repent- 
ance, without  some  intelligent  view  of  the 
law  of  God,  —  the  great  instrument  of  convic- 
tion of  sin,  as  well  as  of  the  motives  to  repent- 
ance; growing  out  of  the  claims  of  God  and  the 


,THE   SABBATH   AND    HEA\^EN.  45 

love  of  God,  and  the  redemption  of  Christ,  —  all 
of  which  are  supplied  by  divine  revelation.  You. 
may,  indeed,  feel  the  stirrings  and  the  stings  of 
natural  conscience;  and  the  future  may  flash  upon 
you  in  a  scene  of  wrath  and  terror ;  and  your 
passions  may  be  wrought  up,  for  a  time,  to  the 
fury  of  a  tempest ;  and  yet  the  rebel  heart  may 
be  beating  in  your  bosom,  in  as  vigorous  pulsation^^ 
as  ever.  But  if  you  will  exercise  true  repentance, 
you  must  know  how,  and  why,  and  for  what ;  and 
without  some  degree  of  this  knowledge,  as  sure  as 
you  imagine  yourself  a  penitent,  you  will  be  & 
self-deceiver. 

And  I  may  say  the  same  of  obedience  to  God's^ 
commandments;  —  it  has  its  springs,  its  motives^ 
in  a  cordial  belief  of  the  truths  of  God's  word,  — 
a  belief  which  presupposes  an  acquaintance  with; 
those  truths.  I  am  not  speaking  here  of  that 
accidental  obedience  which  takes  its  rise  in  a  nat- 
urally amiable  temper,  whose  ajCtings  are  not  al- 
ways wholly  restrained  by  false  maxims  of  conduct; 
nor  yet  of  that  artificial  obedience  which  has  no 
inward  living  spirit,  and  which  is  the  result  of  cal- 
culation how  far  a  man  must  go  in  seeming  to  do 
right,  in  order  to  be  able  to  face  the  future ;  but  I 


46  THE  christian's  gift. 

speak  of  that  obedience  which  puts  in  requisition 
not  only  the  outer  man,  but  tjie  inner  man,  the 
whole  man,  —  now,  henceforth,  and  for  ever ;  and 
of  this  I  say  unhesitatingly,  its  very  primary  ele- 
ment is  knowledge ;  and  other  things  being  equal, 
its  purity,  its  intensity,  will  be  the  greater  in  pro- 
portion to  the  amount  of  knowledge  with  which 
it  is  associated. 

Now  if  you  will  estimate  aright  the  importance 
of  the  Sabbath,  in  enlightening  man's  ignorance 
concerning  those  subjects  which  involve  his  im- 
mortal well-being,  — just  suppose  that  this  divine 
institution  were  blotted  out,  and  that  the  Bible 
were  left,  independently  of  this  mighty  auxiliary, 
to  work  its  way  to  the  understandings  and  hearts 
of  men.  You  might  multiply  Bible  societies,  and 
print  Bibles,  till  the  last  family  on  earth  was  sup- 
plied ;  and  yet  even  this  effort  would  leave  you 
with  a  world  of  heathen  upon  your  hands.  For 
because  men  love  darkness  rather  than  light,  they 
will  not  come  to  the  light,  but  the  light  must  be 
carried  to  them ;  and  it  is  not  enough  even  that 
you  put  it  into  their  dwellings,  but  you  must 
stand  and  hold  it  forth  before  their  eyes.  The 
Sabbath  returns,  like  a  good  angel,  at  brief  inter- 


THE    SABBATH   AND   HEAVEN.  47 

vals,  to  perform  this  benevolent  office.  And  how 
many  kindly  and  efficient  instrumentalities  does  it 
put  in  operation  !  Is  it  not  a  part  of  the  Sabbath 
work  of  the  Christian  mother,  to  store  the  minds 
of  her  children  with  divine  truth,  and  to  endeavor 
to  give  it,  its  due  effect  upon  their  hearts  and 
lives  ?  Does  not  many  a  good  man  improve  these 
quiet  hours,  in  carrying  instruction  to  the  degraded 
and  outcast,  and  thus  planting  himself  down  for  a 
conflict  with  the  prince  of  darkness  in  the  very 
heart  of  his  own  dominions  ?  Does  not  the  Sab- 
bath school  unfold  its  arms  of  charity,  and  invite 
all  who  will,  to  come  and  be  enlightened  in  God's 
testimonies?  Above  all,  does  not  the  sanctuary 
gather  those  of  every  rank,  of  every  age,  of 
every  character,  within  its  hallowed  inclosure; 
and  however  indisposed  some  may  be  to  listen 
and  to  apply,  may  it  not  be  presumed  that  a  por- 
tion of  the  truth  that  is  proclaimed,  will  find  a 
lodgement  in  their  minds,  and  may  it  not  be  hoped 
that  a  divine  influence  will  constrain  them  into 
the  attitude  of  eager  and  docile  hearers  ?  I  know, 
indeed,  that  the  minds  of  any  or  of  all  these,  may 
be  brought  in  contact  with  God's  truth  without 
feeling  its   quickening   power; — nay,  their  final 


48  THE  christian's  gift. 

condemnation  may  be  aggravated  by  the  abuse 
of  their  religious  knowledge;  nevertheless,  even 
a  possibility  of  their  attaining  heaven,  according 
to  the  revealed  economy  of  God's  grace,  involves 
the  necessity  of  their  being  in  some  degree 
enlightened;  and  hence  I  honor  the  Sabbath, 
because  it  pours  upon  the  unrenewed  world,  a 
great  and  blessed  tide  of  Christian  instruction. 

And  how  is  it  in  reference  to  those  who  have 
actually  set  their  faces  towards  heaven  ?  Suppose 
an  individual,  renewed  in  the  temper  of  his  mind, 
to  be  permanently  exiled  from  the  ordinances  of 
God's  house,  and  to  have  his  lot  cast  where  the 
Sabbath  passes  uncared  for  and  unthought  of, — 
unless,  indeed,  it  be  signalized  as  the  great  secular 
holiday  of  the  week;  and  allow  to  him  even  a 
Bible  and  any  other  religious  books  he  may 
choose  to  have ;  —  I  do  not  say  that  he  will  not  be 
a  Christian  still ;  but  I  do  say  that  if  there  is  any 
thing  to  be  known  from  the  past,  he  will  be  but 
a  poor  proficient  in  religious  knowledge ;  and 
there  is  danger  even  that  the  history  of  his  Bible, 
will  come  id  be  the  history  of  a  comparatively 
neglected  book.  But  suppose  that  this  individual, 
instead  of  being  removed  in  the  providence  of 


THE  SABBATH  AND  HEAVEN.  49 

God  to  a  region  where  man  acknowledges  no 
Sabbath,  were  to  live  in  a  world  where  God  had 
appointed  none,  —  what  would  the  measure  of  his 
knowledge  of  divine  truth  be  then  ?  Suppose  the 
thousand  voices  that  speak  to  him  on  this  sacred 
day  were  hushed,  and  the  innumerable  influences 
that  urge  him  to  the  private  study  of  God's  word, 
were  withheld,  —  would  he  ever  attain  to  more 
than  the  stature  of  a  babe  in  scriptural  knowl- 
edge? The  Sabbath,  like  the  sun  of  righteous- 
ness, sheds  light  into  the  Christian's  understand- 
ing, as  well  as  joy  into  his  heart.  In  its  public 
ordinances,  he  recognizes  so  many  channels  of 
religious  instruction.  In  its  hours  of  comparative 
quietude  and  freedom  from  worldly  care,  he  finds 
opportunity  to  call  to  mind  what  he  hears  in  pub- 
lic, and  inwardly  to  digest  it  by  devout  meditar- 
tion.  Thus  he  is  constantly  growing  in  knowl- 
edge ;  and  his  growth  in  knowledge  is  part  of  his- 
growth  in  grace. 

Another  great  hinderance  to  embracing  religion^ 
or  to  advancing  in  religion,  is  worldliness.  With 
the  unsanctified,  this  may  be  said  to  be  the  ruling 
passion;  and  this  passion  must  be  bowed  and 
broken,  else  there  can  be   neither  admission  to 

5 


50  THE  christian's    GIFT. 

heaven,  nor  susceptibility  of  heaven's  enjoyments. 
Almost  the  whole  arena  of  life  seems  to  be  a 
scene  of  idolatry.  Wealth,  honor,  pleasure,  —  the 
world  in  some  form,  not  only  attracts,  but  rivets 
and  entrances;  and  it  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that  the  idol-worship  of  Christian  countries  is  just 
as  intense,  though  not  as  gross  or  as  universal,  as 
of  Pagan  countries.  Upon  what  instrumentality, 
then,  are  we  to  depend  for  casting  down  this  idol 
from  the  throne,  and  introducing  in  its  place  the 
legitimate  occupant  ?  I  answer,  chiefly  upon  the 
Sabbath.  True,  indeed,  God  is  not  straitened  in 
his  works  of  mercy ;  and  there  are  cases  in  which 
men  who  recognize  no  Sabbath,  are  still  met  by 
the  Lord  of  the  Sabbath,  and  almost  as  marvel- 
lously as  was  Saul  the  persecutor ;  but  even  in 
such  cases,  the  work  is  rarely  performed,  without 
the  help  of  religious  ordinances;  for  the  awakened 
conscience^  the  inquiring  soul,  will  seek  to  put 
itself  in  the  atmosphere  of  instruction  and  devo- 
tion. Tell  me  not  that  these  devotees  of  the 
world  have  the  Bible  in  their  houses,  and  that 
that  may  sufiice  to  impart  to  them  a  sense  of 
their  danger  and  their  duty.  You  have  not  con- 
sidered that  this  very  spirit  of  worldliness  oper- 


THE  SABBATH  AND  HEAVEN.  51 

ates  to  prevent  them  from  reading  the  Bible ;  and 
how  will  they  be  the  better  for  having  divine 
truth  shut  up  in  a  book,  and  stowed  away  in  a 
closet  ?  But  when  the  Sabbath  comes,  they  who 
have  not  reverence  enough  for  the  Bible  to  look 
into  it,  have  yet  respect  enough  for  themselves  to 
appear  in  the  sanctuary ;  and  while  God's  servant 
draws  the  bow  at  a  venture,  God's  spirit  directs 
the  arrow  to  some  flinty  heart;  and  from  the 
pierced  heart  there  is  a  gushing  forth  of  peniten- 
tial sorrow;  and  then  there  is  a  new  traveller  set- 
ting out  on  the  way  to  heaven.  When  I  contem- 
plate the  past,  and  think  what  myriads  of  souls 
it  has  sent  up  to  glory,  and  when  I  look  over 
Christendom  at  this  moment  and  notice  the  vast 
throng  that  are  still  pressing  upward,  I  cannot 
forbear  to  say,  had  there  been  no  Sabbath,  how 
small  a  proportion  of  these  would  have  ever 
broken  away  from  the  w^orld's  fascinations,  and 
been  enrolled  as  the  followers  of  the  Lord  Jesus ! 
Would  that  the  spirit  of  worldliness  had  no 
other  lodgement,  than  in  the  bosom  of  the  unre- 
newed ;  but  alas,  it  acts  too  often,  like  a  wither- 
ing blast,  or  a  consuming  fire  upon  the  Christian's 
vital  energies.     And  is  there  any  other  antidote 


52  THE  christian's  gift. 

to  its  influence  to  be  compared  with  the  Sabbath  ? 
Perhaps  you  are  a  poor  man,  and  are  obhged  to 
work  hard  to  earn  your  bread.  Perhaps  you  are 
a  rich  man,  and  have  as  much  as  you  can  do  to 
look  after  your  great  possessions.  Perhaps  you 
are  a  merchant,  and  have  large  commercial  en- 
gagements, and  your  mind  is  busy  night  and  day 
in  extending  your  connections,  and  maturing  and 
carrying  out  your  plans  of  gain.  Perhaps  you 
are  a  lawyer,  or  a  judge,  or  a  statesman,  and  feel 
that  the  cause  of  your  clients,  or  the  claims  of 
justice,  or  the  interests  of  your  country,  press 
hard  upon  you,  and  leave  you  with  little  time  for 
any  thing  beside.  And  yet,  after  all,  you  are  on 
your  way  towards  the  better  country;  but  at 
what  rate,  think  you,  would  you  travel,  without 
the  aid  of  the  Sabbath  ?  Is  it  not  refreshing, 
delightful,  to  come  to  a  weekly  pause  from  all 
worldly  engagements, — -to  recognize  in  these  sa- 
cred hours  a  breathing  time  for  the  weary  spirit, — 
a  time  for  the  heart  to  fly  to  its  God  and  unburden 
itself  of  all  that  oppresses  it, — a  time  to  get  a  fresh 
taste  of  God's  loving-kindness,  and  a  fresh  fore- 
taste of  the  rest  that  remains  for  his  people. 
And  after  the  private  and  public  duties  of  the 


THE  SABBATH  AND  HEAVEN.  53 

day  are  over,  after  you  have  been  in  the  sanctu- 
ary and  found  it  good  to  be  there,  and  been  in 
your  closet  and  found  it  good  to  be  there,  —  in 
short,  after  you  have  spent  the  whole  day  as  God 
would  have  you  spend  it,  —  do  you  not  feel  a 
renewal  of  your  strength,  a  revival  of  your  graces, 
a  better  preparation  for  the  duties  of  the  week 
before  you ;  and  as  the  week  passes  on,  is  there 
not  a  preserving,  a  quickening  influence  imparted 
to  you  through  the  recollections  of  the  Sabbath 
past,  and  the  anticipations  of  the  Sabbath  ap- 
proaching ?  You  feel.  Christian,  that  it  is  as  much 
as  you  can  do,  beset  as  you  are  with  so  many 
opposing  influences,  to  advance  even  slowly  in 
the  spiritual  hfe,  —  and  ihat  with  all  the  helps 
which  God  has  graciously  supplied  to  you; — what 
then  would  you  do,  if  nearly  all  these  helps  were 
to  be  withdrawn,  in  the  blotting  out  of  God's  holy 
day  from  your  religious  calendar?  "We  complain 
now,  and  justly  enough,  that  the  love  of  many 
waxes  cold;  but  if  there  were  no  Sabbath  to 
quicken  the  languid  flame,  could  it  have  any 
other  than  that  tremulous  existence,  that  always 
marks  the  point  of  extinction  ? 

One  more  hinderance  to  obtaining  heaven  oiii 
5* 


54  THE  christian's  gift. 

which  the  Sabbath  acts  with  great  power,  \^  pro- 
crastincdwn.  There  are  those,  no  doubt,  who  are 
so  desperately  infidel,  as  to  disbelieve  a  future 
state  altogether ;  —  of  course,  thei/  cannot  be  said 
to  procrastinate  their  preparation  for  heaven. 
But  all  who  believe  that  there  is  a  heaven,  unless, 
indeed,  under  an  exceeding  sense  of  their  guilt, 
they  have  come  to  despair  of  God's  mercy, — 
secretly  intend  and  expect,  by  some  means  or 
other,  ultimately  to  reach  it.  They  may  be  ready 
enough  to  acknowledge  that  they  have  not  the 
necessary  qualifications  now;  but  then  they  see 
an  indefinite  period  in  prospect,  and  at  some  point 
this  side  of  their  last  step  in  the  dark  valley, — 
perhaps  they  do,  and  perhaps  they  do  not,  decide 
where  it  shall  be,  —  they  expect  to  be  dressed  for 
admission  to  the  marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb. 
In  nothing  do  men  deal  more  treacherously  with 
themselves,  than  in  this  matter  of  procrastination ; 
for  it  implies  a  resolution  to  do  that  hereafter 
which  they  are  not  willing  to  do  now,  when  the 
difficulties  by  which  the  work  is  attended,  are 
constantly  increasing.  And  let  me  say  this  spirit 
operates  more  frequently  by  an  insidious  and  in- 
sensible influence,  than  in  a  distinct  and  formal 


THE  SABBATH  AND  HEAVEN.  55 

purpose  to  delay.  By  some  instrumentality  or 
other^  the  sinner's  conscience  is  brought  in  con- 
tact with  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come ;  and 
there  comes  up  from  the  depth  of  his  spirit  the 
solemn  inquiry,  what  he  must  do  to  be  saved ; 
and  a  resolution  succeeds  that  he  will  enter  on 
the  straight  and  narrow  way  that  leads  to  Hfe. 
But  with  this  resolution  he  goes  into  the  world ; 
and  the  world  courts  him  back  to  her  embrace ; 
and  now  his  thoughts  grow  less  and  less  trouble- 
some every  hour.  He  knows  it  not,  but  he  is 
falling  under  the  tempter's  power;  and  unless 
there  be  some  strong  counteracting  influence,  his 
good  impressions,  his  good  purposes,  will  quickly 
have  vanished.  And  whence  arises  any  hope  in 
his  case  ?  Why,  chiefly  from  the  Sabbath.  That 
brings  him  to  the  house  of  God;  and  here  the 
sword  of  the  Spirit  again  falls  heavily  upon  his 
conscience,  and  he  feels  more  deeply  than  ever 
that  there  is  a  mighty  work  upon  his  hands ;  and 
he  leaves  the  sanctuary  only  to  go  to  his  closet 
to  ponder  upon  the  truth  which  he  has  heard, 
upon  the  resolution  which  he  has  nearly  broken, 
upon  the  fearful  alternative  of  heaven  or  hell 
that  now  urges  itself  upon  him.     It   is   in   the 


56  THE  christian's  gift. 

sanctuary  that  the  procrastinatmg  spirit  most  fre- 
quently meets  an  effectual  rebuke.  Here  the 
dying  embers  of  conviction  are  fanned  into  a 
flame ;  and  this  process  is  sometimes  repeated, 
not  once  but  often,  before  its  end  is  accomplished 
in  a  spiritual  renovation.  The  language  which 
the  Sabbath  holds  to  every  delaying  sinner  is, 
"Why  will  ye  die?"  "Behold,  now  is  the  ac- 
cepted time ! " 

And  think  you  that  the  habit  of  procrastina- 
tion is  confined  to  the  irreligious?  Think  you  that 
this  same  spirit  never  creeps  over  the  followers 
of  Christ,  obscuring  their  evidences,  withering 
their  joys,  abridging  their  usefulness  ?  I  tell  you, 
many  a  good  purpose  that  the  Christian  forms, 
perishes  under  precisely  this  influence  ;  and  many 
more  would  perish,  but  that  the  Sabbath  interposes 
to  prevent  it.  You  have  resolved  within  yourself 
that  you  will  perform  some  benevolent  deed  in 
behalf  of  a  fellow-creature;  or  that  you  will  be 
more  circumspect  in  your  general  intercourse 
with  society ;  or  that  you  will  be  more  earnest 
and  diligent  in  cultivating  a  spiritual  mind.  Now 
while  this  resolution  is,  perhaps,  a  relief  to  a  reslr 
less  conscience,  its  indefiniteness   in   respect   to 


THE  SABBATH  AND  HEAVEN.  57 

the  time  when  it  shall  take  effect,  makes  you  easy 
in  the  postponement  of  it ;  and  who  knows 
whether  it  would  ever  be  reduced  to  practice,  if 
the  Sabbath  did  not  come  to  quicken  your  sense 
of  obligation,  and  warn  you  against  delay  ?  If 
the  amount  of  service  rendered  to  Christ  on  earth, 
is  to  be  the  measure  of  glory  bestowed  by  Christ 
in  heaven,  then  surely  the  Sabbath  accomplishes 
much  for  the  Christian,  in  rebuking  him  out  of 
that  listless  spirit  of  delay,  that  would  rob  him  of 
part  of  his  eternal  reward. 

The  Sabbath  enlists  the  social  principle  in  aid  of 
our  training  for  heaven. 

The  social  principle  is  at  once  a  source  of 
enjoyment  and  of  efficiency.  Whatever  happi- 
ness individuals  may  find  in  yielding  themselves 
to  solitary  meditation,  it  admits  of  no  question 
that  the  highest  happiness  that  God  has  ordained 
for  man  is  to  be  found  in  society;  in  the  com- 
mingling of  minds  and  hearts,  in  reference  to  mat- 
ters of  common  interest.  The  joys  of  the  little 
child  are  rendered  more  intense,  by  being  im- 
parted to  some  bosom  that  is  open  to  receive 
them ;  and  the  philosopher  who  has  found  out  a 
secret  path  through  the  heavens,  will  not  expe- 


58  THE  christian's  gift. 

rience  his  full  measure  of  satisfaction,  till  he  has 
led  other  philosophers  over  the  bright  track,  and 
even  the  world  itself  is  put  into  communion  with 
him,  in  respect  to  his  discovery.  To  this  principle 
belong  also  all  the  tender  sympathies  of  our 
nature,  in  the  indulgence  of  which  we  lose,  in 
some  measure,  our  sense  of  the  bitterness  of  grief 
But  there  is  in  it  not  only  a  power  to  soothe  life's 
sorrows  and  heighten  its  joys,  but  to  awaken  lofty 
impulses,  and  lead  on  to  vigorous  action.  Be  it 
so  that  it  takes  but  a  single  mind  to  conceive  a 
great  purpose,  —  yet  in  all  ordinary  cases  many 
great  minds  are  put  in  requisition  to  accomplish  it. 
How  preposterous  would  be  the  suggestion  that  a 
solitary  individual  should  achieve  our  country's 
independence,  or  overturn  the  throne  of  France, 
or  even  build  a  magnificent  edifice ;  —  and  yet 
neither  of  these  enterprises  has  proved  itself  an 
overmatch  for  the  combined  energies  of  a  multi- 
tude !  You  have  no  idea  of  the  actual  power  of 
man,  from  contemplating  the  separate  power  of 
individual  minds;  it  is  only  when  you  see  the 
social  principle  operating  to^  bring  them  into 
united  and  harmonious  action,  that  you  are  pre- 
pared to  pronounce  an  intelligent  judgment  upon 
their  capabilities. 


THE  SABBATH  AND  HEAVEN.  59 

Now  this  principle  which  so  immediately  iden- 
tifies itself  with  man's  highest  capacity  for  both 
enjoyment  and  action,  the  Sabbath  turns  to  the 
best  account  in  preparing  him  for  heaven.  Wit- 
ness its  operation  in  the  Christian  family,  where 
there  is  a  blending  of  hearts  in  the  study  of 
God's  word ;  where  religious  instruction  and  coun- 
sel are  communicated  with  parental  tenderness, 
and  received  with  filial  reverence  and  love ; 
where  the  voice  of  prayer  is  quickened  into 
unwonted  fervor,  diffusing  an  air  of  solemnity 
and  yet  of  gladness  over  the  domestic  circle,  and 
rendering  all  the  hallowed  associations  of  the  day 
tributary  to  the  spirit  of  devotion.  "Witness  it  in 
that  goodly  cooperation  of  kindred  minds  for  ele- 
vating the  moral  condition  of  society,  —  for  pour- 
ing light  into  the  darkened  understanding,  or  con- 
solation into  the  troubled  heart.  Witness  it,  espe- 
cially, in  the  public  services  of  the  sanctuary,  — 
where  the  word  dispensed  by  one  is  heard  by 
many;  and  the  prayers  offered  by  one  become 
the  prayers  of  many ;  and  the  holy  communion 
administered  by  one  appeals  to  the  devout  sensi- 
bilities of  many ;  and  the  measure  of  light  and 
strength  and  comfort  that  is  received,  is  greatly 


60  THE   christian's    GIFT. 

increased  by  the  community  of  interest,  and  the 
diffusive  glow  of  Christian  affection.  As  man  is  a 
social  being,  so  the  Sabbath  is  preeminently  a 
social  institution.  It  binds  the  pure  in  heart 
together  with  the  golden  cord  of  sympathy ;  and 
renders  each  the  happier  and  the  stronger  for  the 
fellowship  of  privilege  and  duty  which  it  estab- 
lishes. 

The  Sabbath  greatly  enlarges  the  intercourse  of 
earth  with  heaven. 

I  know  that  when  I  speak  of  man's  communing 
with  God,  or  God's  communing  with  man,  I  utter 
that  which,  in  one  view,  is  a  profound  mystery: 
concerning  the  mode  of  contact  between  finite 
and  infinite,  between  my  own  spirit  and  the  Power 
that  created  and  sustains  it,  I  profess  to  know 
nothing.  But  I  do  know  all  that  is  essential  to 
my  availing  myself  of  this  high  privilege.  I 
know  that  my  Father  in  heaven  has  an  open  ear, 
when  my  spirit  breathes  towards  Him  only  in  a 
whisper.  I  know  the  new  and  living  way  that 
leads  to  his  throne,  and  the  gracious  help  to  my 
infirmities  which  he  permits  me  to  hope  for.  I 
know  that  his  promise  is  pledged  that  he  will 
draw  near  to  me  when  I  draw  near  to  Him ;  and 


THE  SABBATH  AND  HEAVEN.  61 

even  if  my  own  experience  should  pass  for  noth- 
ing, I  could  bring  a  host  to  testify  that  to  them  the 
promise  had  been  made  good.  In  short,  if  the 
intercourse  of  man  with  man  is  a  reality,  not  les& 
is  the  intercourse  of  man  with  God;  if  sense 
opens  a  channel  of  communication,  so  does  faith, 
also;  and  whatever  of  mystery  may  pertain  to 
the  subject,  I  will  be  content  reverently  and 
gratefully  to  enjoy  the  privilege,  and  leave  the- 
mystery  to  be  looked  at  in  some  brighter  light. 

Now  this  intercourse  of  which  I  speak,  not  only 
actually  exists,  but  is  carried  on  continually;  — 
there  is  not  an  hour  or  a  moment  in  which  sup- 
plication is  not  going  up,  and  blessings  coming 
down  through  the  appointed  medium  of  divine 
mercy.  Every  Christian's  closet,  every  domestic 
altar,  forms  a  connecting  point  between  the  visi- 
ble  and  invisible;  between  man's  poverty  and. 
God's  infinite  fulness.  But  while  earth  is  thus 
always,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  in  communioni 
with  heaven,  it  is  on  the  Sabbath  that  the  heavens- 
may  be  emphatically  said  to  bow  and  the  earth 
to  rise ;  for  then  are  other  voices  mute  that  the 
voice  of  supplication  and  thanksgiving  may  be 
heard;  and  God  reveals  Himself  to    his  congre- 

6 


62  THE  christian's  gift. 

gated  people  in  blended  majesty  and  mercy. 
K  the  Psalmist  could  say  in  reference  to  the 
Jewish  temple,  — "  Thy  way,  0  God,  is  in  the 
sanctuary,"  —  with  at  least  equal  propriety  may 
we  hold  the  same  language  in  regard  to  our  places 
of  worship ;  for  if  God  does  not  meet  his  assem- 
bled worshippers  now  with  the  same  visible  tokens 
as  he  did  his  people  of  old,  yet  he  meets  them  as 
truly,  and  visits  them  with  even  a  richer  blessing. 
And  while  he  is  present  by  his  own  immediate  in- 
fluence, he  commissions  his  angels  also  to  perform 
towards  his  waiting  saints  a  gracious  ministration ; 
and  no  doubt  if  our  eyes  could  be  open,  as  were 
the  eyes  of  the  astonished  prophet,  we  should 
sometimes  know  that  we  are  really  in  other  com- 
pany than  our  senses  take  cognizance  of;  that 
there  are  rapt  spirits  in  our  places  of  worship, 
dressed  in  the  livery  of  heaven,  who  have  dropped 
down  from  their  native  skies,  not  only  to  witness, 
but  in  some  mysterious  way  to  aid,  the  purity 
and  fervor  of  our  devotions. 

Is  it  possible  then,  I  ask,  to  form  too  high  an 
estimate  of  the  Sabbath,  in  this  view,  as  a  means 
of  preparation  for  heaven  ?  Why,  Christians,  it 
puts  you,  for  a  time,  not  only  into  a  heavenly  at- 


THE  SABBATH  AND  HEAVEN.  63 

mosphere,  but  into  heavenly  company;  it  brings 
you,  in  a  peculiar  sense,  to  "Mount  Zion,  and 
unto  the  city  of  the  living  God,  the  heavenly 
Jerusalem,  and  to  an  innumerable  company  of 
angels,  to  the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the 
firstrborn  which  are  written  in  heaven,  and  to 
God  the  Judge  of  all,  and  to  the  spirits  of  just 
men  made  perfect,  and  to  Jesus  the  Mediator  of 
the  new  covenant."  With  such  a  host  of  celestial 
inhabitants  round  about  you,  with  such  an  amount 
of  gracious  influence  pressing  upon  you,  can  it  be 
otherwise,  than  that  you  will  forget  the  things  that 
are  behind  and  below,  and  press  forward  and  up- 
ward ?  While  heaven  is  thus  breathing  upon 
your  sphits,  can  it  be  that  you  will  not  become 
more  vigorous  for  the  heavenly  race,  more  enam- 
ored of  the  prospect  of  heavenly  glory  ? 

The  Sabbath  schools  the  spirit  in  the  exercises 
and  emphymerds  of  heaven. 

Heaven  is  indeed  a  place  of  rest,  but  not  of 
inaction.  There  is  rest  from  all  life's  conflicts, 
and  trials,  and  wearisome  labors,  —  rest  in  the 
sense  of  undisturbed  peace  and  perfect  security ; 
but  there  is  no  rest,  nor  is  there  occasion  for  it, 
in  any   sense   that   supposes   imperfection.     The 


64 


THE  CHRISTIAN  S  GIFT. 


faculties  there,  are  incomparably  more  vigorous 
than  here ;  and  there  is  no  veil  interposed  to  shut 
out  the  objects  upon  which  they  act;  and  the 
mind  which,  after  a  brief  period  of  labor  here, 
instinctively  seeks  repose  to  recruit  its  energies, 
will  there  find  itself  nerved  by  each  successive 
effort  to  penetrate  some  profounder  mystery,  or 
to  take  some  loftier  flight.  Bodies,  indeed,  there 
will  be  in  heaven,  —  the  same  bodies  essentially 
in  which  our  spirits  now  dwell ;  but  having  passed 
through  the  refining  process  of  the  resurrection, 
every  gross  and  earthly  element  will  be  expelled 
from  them,  and  instead  of  embarrassing,  they  will 
only  aid  and  quicken  the  soul's  operations. 

And  if  heaven  is  a  scene  of  perpetual  activity, 
in  what  manner  are  our  faculties  to  be  employed, 
—  towards  what  objects  are  they  to  be  directed  ? 
We  can  answer  this  question  but  imperfectly ;  but 
we  know  that  the  saints  in  glory  are  occupied 
not  a  little  in  exercises  of  devotion;  they  rest 
not  day  nor  night  from  ascriptions  of  glory,  and 
honor,  and  thanksgiving,  unto  him  that  sitteth 
upon  the  throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb.  We  know 
that  they  are  eager  in  exploring  the  works  of 
God,  especially  the  marvellous  work  of  redemp- 


THE   SABBATH   AND    HEAVEN.  65 

tion,  by  which  his  glory  is  chiefly  illustrated.  We 
know  that  they  are  employed  in  an  everlasting 
ministration  of  benevolence,  —  not  indeed  in  sup- 
plying want  or  relieving  sorrow,  —  for  want  and 
sorrow  are  words  that  have  no  meaning  in  heaven, 
—  but  in  rendering  each  other's  joys  more  intense 
by  such  offices  of  beneficence,  as  one  perfect 
spirit  may  perform  towards  another.  With  the 
little  concerns  of  earth  they  have  nothing  to  do ; 
but  all  their  faculties  are  engaged  in  pursuits, 
worthy  of  their  immortal  destiny,  and  adapted  to 
advance  them  from  glory  to  glory. 

Look  now  at  the  legitimate  exercises  of  the 
Sabbath,  and  see  whether  you  do  not  recognize 
in  them  the  same  employments  in  kind,  though 
of  an  infinitely  humbler  type,  vrith  those  which 
occupy  the  ransomed  in  heaven.  Are  those  blood 
bought  spirits  glowing  with  pure  devotion ;  casi> 
ing  their  crowns,  in  token  of  gratitude  and  love, 
at  their  Redeemer's  feet  ?  —  and  are  you  not 
actuated  by  a  similar  spirit,  and  engaged  in  a  cor- 
responding service,  when  you  join  in  pubhcly 
offering  up  your  devout  thanksgivings,  and  espe- 
cially when  you  commemorate  your  Sai^dour's 
dying  love  in  an  ordinance  bearing  the  stamp  of 
6* 


THE    CHRISTIAN  S    GIFT. 


his  own  authority  ?  Are  they  eager  in  the  pur- 
suit of  divine  knowledge,  —  earnest  students  of 
those  mysteries  with  which  the  angels  also  desire 
to  look? — And  what  else  is  your  attendance  on  the 
word  but  an  effort,  or  rather  a  systematic  course 
of  effort,  to  be  always  increasing  in  the  knowledge 
of  God  ?  Are  they  joined  in  a  fellowship  of  be- 
neficent activity,  —  each  one  the  happier  for  the 
contribution  which  he  makes  to  the  common 
bliss  ?  —  And  do  not  your  visits  to  the  hovels  of 
the  poor  and  the  beds  of  the  dying,  as  well  as 
your  efforts  to  enlighten  the  ignorant  and  save 
the  lost,  bring  into  exercise  the  same  spirit  of 
charity,  though  modified  by  different  circum- 
stances, with  that  which  pervades  and  hallows 
the  communion  of  the  glorified  ?  Surely,  Chris- 
tians, the  Sabbath  returns  upon  you  to  give  you 
an  opportunity  of  doing  heaven's  work  here  upon 
earth.  You  are  taking  lessons  here  for  immor- 
tality. You  are  singing  songs  here  to  prepare 
you  for  the  everlasting  song.  You  are-  listening 
to  truths  here  that  you  may  be  qualified  to  follow 
out  the  same  truths  under  the  advantages  of 
higher  teaching.  You  take  the  sacramental  sjnn- 
bols  here,  that  the  bread  of  heaven,  the  new  wine 


1 


SABBATH   EVENING.  67 

in  tlie  kingdom  of  the  Father,  may  be  more  wel- 
come to  you.  You  cultivate  all  holy  affections 
here,  that  they  may  bloom  in  a  brighter  matu- 
rity, when  they  shall  be  brought  directly  beneath 
the  condensed  effulgence  of  the  Son  of  right- 
eousness. Christian,  thou  art  a  mere  tyro  here, 
— just  at  the  beginning  of  thy  course ;  thou  art 
indeed  doing  elementary  work;  but  when  heav- 
en's immortal  splendors  shall  blaze  upon  thine 
eye,  and  heaven's  thrilling  anthems  shall  tremble 
on  thine  ear,  nothing  shall  occupy  thee,  nothing 
shall  entrance  thee,  the  elements  of  which  thou 
wilt  not  be  able  to  find  in  the  work  of  thine 
earthly  Sabbaths. 


SABBATH   EVENING. 

How  calmly  sinks  the  parting  day ! 

Yet  twilight  lingers  still ; 
And  beautiful  as  dream  of  Heaven 

It  slumbers  on  the  hill ; 
Earth  sleeps  with  all  her  glorious  things, 
Beneath  the  Holy  Spirit's  wings, 
And,  sending  back  the  hues  above, 
Seems  resting  in  a  trance  of  love. 


68  THE  christl\n's  gift. 

Round  yonder  rocks  the  forest-trees 

In  shadowy  groups  rechne, 
Like  saints  at  evening  bow'd  in  prayer 

Around  their  holy  shrine ; 
And  through  their  leaves  the  night  winds  blow 
So  calm  and  still,  their  music  low 
Seems  the  mysterious  voice  of  prayer, 
Soft  echoed  on  the  evening  air. 

And  yonder  throng  of  clouds, 

Retiring  from  the  sky, 
So  calmly  move,  so  softly  glow. 

They  seem  to  fancy*s  eye, 
Bright  creatures  of  a  better  sphere. 
Come  down  at  noon  to  worship  here, 
And,  from  their  sacrifice  of  love, 
Returning  to  their  home  above. 

The  blue  isles  of  the  golden  sea. 

The  night  arch  floating  by. 
The  flowers  that  gaze  upon  the  heavens. 

The  bright  streams  leaping  by, 
Are  living  with  religion  —  deep 
On  earth  and  sea  its  glories  sleep. 
And  mingle  with  the  starlight  rays, 
Like  the  soft  light  of  parted  days. 

The  spirit  of  the  holy  eve 

Comes  through  the  silent  air 
To  feeling's  hidden  spring,  and  wakes 

A  gush  of  music  there ! 


SABBATH   EVENING.  69 

And  the  far  depths  of  ether  beam 
So  passing  fair,  we  almost  dream 
That  we  can  rise,  and  wander  through 
Their  open  paths  of  trackless  blue. 

Each  soul  is  fill'd  with  glorious  dreams, 

Each  pulse  is  beating  wild ; 
And  thought  is  soaring  to  the  shrine 

Of  glory  undefiled ! 
And  holy  aspirations  start, 
Like  blessed  angels  from  the  heart, 
And  bind  —  for  earth's  dark  ties  are  riven  — 
Our  spirits  to  the  gates  of  heaven. 

G.  D.  Prentice. 


SABBATH   EVENING. 

"  The  holy  time.     The  evening  shade 
Steals  with  a  soft  control 
O'er  nature,  as  a  thought  of  heaven 

Steals  o'er  the  human  soul ; 
And  every  ray  from  yonder  blue, 
And  every  drop  of  falling  dew, 
Seem  to  bring  down  to  human  woes 
From  heaven  a  message  of  repose. 

"  The  mists,  like  incense  from  the  earth. 
Rise  to  a  God  beloved, 


70 


THE    CHRISTIAN  S    GIFT. 


And  o'er  the  waters  move  as  erst 

The  Holy  Spirit  moved ; 
The  torrent's  voice,  the  wave's  low  hymn. 
Seem  the  fair  notes  of  seraphim ; 
And  all  earth's  thousand  voices  raise 
Their  songs  of  worship,  love,  and  praise. 

"  The  gentle  sisterhood  of  flowers 

Bend  low  their  lovely  eyes. 
Or  gaze  through  trembling  tears  of  dew 

Up  to  the  holy  skies  ; 
And  the  pure  stars  come  out  above, 
Like  sweet  and  blessed  things  of  love, 
Bright  signals  in  the  ethereal  dome 
To  guide  the  parted  spirit  home. 

"  There  is  a  spirit  of  blessedness 

In  air  and  earth  and  heaven, 
And  nature  wears  the  blessed  look 

Of  a  young  saint  forgiven  ; 
Oh,  who,  at  such  an  hour  of  love, 
Can  gaze  on  all  around,  above. 
And  not  kneel  down  upon  the  sod 
With  nature's  self  to  worship  God !  " 


•# 


s    b"'''' 


^-^^%^  '-   C^^^j^  cz^li:>^^^a::^ 


IV. 

THE    HOLY   ANGELS. 

BTBEV.     ROLLIXH.    NEALE,    D.  D. 


The  Scriptures  recognize  two  classes  of  created 
intelligences,  the  human  race  upon  the  earth,  and 
the  angels  whose  dwelling-place  is  in  heaven. 
Whether  in  the  immeasurable  spaces  of  creation 
there  are  other  rational  and  accountable  beings, 
is  not  revealed,  and  no  philosophy  can  determine. 
It  is  scarcely  reasonable,  however,  to  suppose  that 
the  earth  is  a  "  lone  star  "  in  existence.  It  is  nat- 
ural and  certainly  pleasant  to  the  imagination  to 
believe  that  there  are  other  orbs  besides  our  own, 
floating  in  the  immensity  of  space,  replete  with 
life,  and  over  which  sin  and  sorrow  have  never 
cast  their  baleful  influence.  But  whether  this 
be  imagination  or  reality,  certain  it  is  that  ours 
is  not  the  only  world  that  God  has  made,  nor 


72  THE  christian's  gift. 

men  the  only  beings  in  the  universe  capable  of 
honoring  and  adoring  the  Creator.  The  Bible 
makes  us  acquainted  with  angels,  their  abode, 
their  character,  and  their  employments.  I  heard 
the  voice  of  many  angels  round  about  the  throne, 
and  the  number  of  them  was  ten  thousand  times 
ten  thousand,  and  thousands  of  thousands.  Heaven 
is  their  home,  as  earth  is  the  dwelling-place  of 
man.  They  are  in  the  immediate  presence  of  the 
Deity,  occupying  the  most  exalted  stations,  and 
employed  in  the  sublimest  service.  fl 

They  are  referred  to  as  the  principalities  and 
powers  in  heavenly  places,  to  whom  is  made 
known  by  the  church  the  manifold  wisdom  of 
God.  Whenever  any  of  this  order  have  visited 
the  earth,  their  appearance  has  corresponded  with 
their  high  rank  and  station.  It  is  said  of  the 
angel  that  rolled  away  the  stone  from  the  door 
of  the  sepulchre,  that  his  countenance  was  like 
lightning  and  his  raiment  white  as  snow,  and  for 
fear  of  him,  the  keepers  became  as  dead  men. 
Another  seen  in  the  visions  of  St.  John  the  divine, 
is  described  as  being  clothed  with  a  cloud,  and  a 
rainbow  was  upon  his  head,  and  his  face  was,  as 
it  were,  the  sun,  and  his  feet  as  pillars  of  fire. 


I 


THE  HOLY  ANGELS.  73 

Angels  are  represented  as  strong  and  mighty 
in  power,  as  holding  the  four  winds  of  heaven, 
and  executing  the  judgments  of  God  on  the 
guilty.  One  alone,  slew  of  the  army  of  Sennar 
cherib,  an  hundred  fourscore  and  five  thousand 
men.  Another  is  described  as  stronger  than  the 
strong  man,  as  being  able  to  bind  the  prince 
of  the  power  of  the  air,  and  actually  casting 
him  into  the  bottomless  pit,  and  setting  a  seal 
upon  him  that  he  should  deceive  the  nations  no 
more. 

Angels  are  still  more  distinguished  for  their 
strength  of  intellect.  They  are  described  in  the 
Apocalypse  as  being  full  of  eyes,  denoting  the 
number,  quickness,  and  strength  of  their  percep- 
tive powers.  The  human  mind  is  obstructed  in 
its  operations  by  the  infirmities  of  a  mortal  frame, 
and  by  the  limited  power  of  the  mediums  of  sen- 
sation. With  all  the  aids  and  facilities  which  art 
has  hitherto  furnished  to  our  natural  vision,  we- 
can  see  but  a  small  portion  of  the  Creator's  works,, 
and  them  only  through  a  glass  darkly.  But  the 
angels  have  no  such  obstructions.  They  are  repre- 
sented as  all  sense,  all  intellect,  all  consciousness, 
ranging   at  pleasure   over  boundless  fields,   and 

7 


74  THE  christian's  gift. 

contemplating  the  eliaracter  of  Jehovah  as  devel- 
oped in  all  places  of  his  dominion. 

Angels  are  still  more  distinguished  for  their 
moral  excellence.  They  are  emphatically  de- 
nominated the  holy  angels.  They  were  made  in 
the  divine  image,  and  from  the  time  of  their  cre- 
ation they  have  been  continually  serving  God  day 
and  night  in  his  temple ;  and  as  they  were  orig- 
inally pure,  and  have  since  been  debased  by  no 
sin,  tarnished  by  no  spot,  weakened  by  no  imper- 
fection, but  having  gone  forward  for  thousands 
of  ages  in  the  path  of  rectitude,  all  radiant  with 
the  glories  of  heaven,  what  an  elevation,  what 
a  strength,  what  a  sublimity  of  moral  character 
must  they  now  have  attained !  And  how  inspir- 
ing the  thought  that  there  is  an  order  of  intelli- 
gent beings,  so  exalted  in  station,  so  strong  in 
intellect,  surpassing  the  most  distinguished  men 
that  have  ever  lived  on  earth  in  their  resources  of 
wisdom  and  knowledge,  and  yet  that  there  is  in 
them  no  moral  defect!  Goodness,  purity,  and 
love,  are  their  crowning  excellences.  Among  hu- 
man beings,  such  is  the  folly  and  infatuation  of 
man,  that  the  lustre  of  intellect  and  learning  is 
dimmed  and  obscured  by  the  debasing  influence 


I 


TIIE   HOLY   ANGELS.  75 

of  vice.  And  too  often  men  occupying  the  high- 
est stations  of  authority,  are  sunk  the  deepest  in 
moral  degradation,  and  send  down,  as  from  moun- 
tain heights,  dark  and  turbid  waters  upon  the 
plains  below.  But  this  unnatural  state  of  things 
we  have  reason  to  hope  is  confined  to  our  fallen 
world.  The  light  of  revelation  discovers  to  us 
an  order  of  beings,  the  number  of  whom  is  ten 
thousand  times  ten  thousand  and  thousands  of 
thousands,  occupying  the  most  exalted  stations, 
with  preeminent  power,  and  rich  in  mental  re- 
sources, but  whose  predominant  features,  never- 
thdess,  are  sincerity,  beneficence,  truth,  and  love. 
All  their  powers  are  under  the  control  of  a  high 
moral  sense.  Intellect  is  subservient  to  the  heart. 
The  highest  delegated  authority  directed  and 
governed  by  a  still  higher  law. 

Look  now  to  the  services  in  which  angels 
are  employed.  They  rest  not  day  nor  night,  but 
are  continually  praising  God  in  his  temple.  They 
are  not  the  passive  recipients  of  an  undefined 
enjoyment,  nor  are  they  idly  gazing,  as  is  often 
imagined,  upon  scenes  of  glory ;  but  all  their  pow- 
ers are  in  active  and  cheerful  exercise.  "Bless  the 
Lord  ye  his  angels  that  excel  in  strength,  that 


76  THE  christian's  gift. 

do  his  commandments,  hearkening  unto  the  voice 
of  his  word." 

The  most  important  part  of  the  service  in 
which  angels  are  employed,  is  connected  with  the 
work  of  redemption.  This  is  their  favorite  mis- 
sion. They  are  interested  in  all  the  works  of 
God,  but  in  this  more  than  in  any  other.  When 
the  material  heavens  were  created,  these  morning 
stars  sang  together  and  all  the  sons  of  God 
shouted  for  joy ;  but  when  the  plan  of  salvation 
through  God's  anointed  was  made  known  to  them, 
their  thoughts  were  absorbed  by  the  mighty 
theme.  They  beheld  with  wonder  the  mystery 
which  had  been  hidden  from  ages.  Every  fresh 
development  that  was  made,  every  opening  leaf 
of  inspiration,  every  page  of  the  gospel  was  con- 
templated by  them  with  an  interest  never  felt 
before.  When  Christ  became  incarnate,  an  angel 
announced  his  birth,  and  a  multitude  of  the  heav- 
enly host  joined  in  celebrating  the  occasion  in 
notes  of  loftiest  praise.  "  Glory  to  God  in  the 
highest,  peace  on  earth,  good-will  towards  man." 
Although  they  were  not,  like  human  beings,  in 
need  of  redeeming  mercy,  having  no  guilt  to  be 
atoned  for,  and  no  sins  to  be  forgiven :  although 


THE  HOLY   ANGELS.  77 

Christ  in  pursuance  of  his  plan,  did  not  assume 
their  nature,  nor  identify  himself  with  them  as 
with  the  human  race,  yet  as  there  was  in  this 
proceeding  such  a  wonderful  exhibition  of  the 
divine  character,  such  a  mysterious  union  of  jus- 
tice and  mercy,  such  a  hatred  of  sin,  combined 
with  the  most  melting  tenderness  and  compassion 
for  the  sinner,  these  friends  of  God,  these  servants 
of  the  Most  High,  desired  to  look  into  it,  and 
gratify  their  love  and  adoration  of  the  supreme 
divinity,  by  feasting  their  vision  upon  the  bright- 
est glories  of  his  grace. 

Another  part  of  the  service  in  which  angels 
were  engaged,  was  in  attending  upon  Christ's  per- 
sonal ministry.  Interested  as  they  were  in  the 
plan  of  redemption,  joyfully  announcing  as  they 
did  the  Saviour's  birth,  they  would  naturally  wish 
to  follow  him  in  his  subsequent  work.  Accord- 
ingly they  were  present  at  his  baptism.  They 
attended  him  in  the  wilderness.  They  were  near 
by  at  his  crucifixion.  Legions  of  them  were 
ready  to  come  to  his  aid,  yet  as  he  was  to  tread 
the  wine-press  alone,  that  the  Scriptures  might  be 
fulfilled,  they  stood  aloof  in  silent  and  awful 
expectation.  But  no  sooner  were  they  suffered 
7* 


78  THE    christian's    GIFT. 

to  approach  him,  than  they  entered  upon  the  wel- 
come mission.  They  rolled  away  the  stone  from 
the  door  of  the  sepulchre,  and  hailed  with  joy 
his  resurrection  from  the  dead.  At  his  ascension 
they  escorted  him  to  heaven,  and  are  now  em- 
ployed  in  rendering  honor  and  glory,  dominion 
and  power  to  him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne, 
and  to  the  lamb  forever. 

Another  service  in  which  angels  are  employed, 
is  in  watching  over  and  aiding  the  progress  of 
Christ's  kingdom  upon  the  earth.  They  have  a 
deep  interest  in  the  success  of  the  gospel,  and  in 
the  recovery  of  the  human  race  from  their  pres- 
ent guilt  and  misery.  They  are  all  ministering 
spirits,  sent  forth  to  minister  unto  them  who  shall 
be  heirs  of  salvation.  The  Scriptures  teach  that 
there  are  evil  spirits  in  the  world,  in  the  body  and 
out  of  the  body,  also  wicked  men  and  seducers,  who 
wax  worse  and  worse,  who  sleep  not  unless  they 
have  done  mischief,  and  whose  sleep  departs  from 
them,  unless  they  have  caused  some  to  fall.  These 
spirits  are  present  to  suggest  evil  thoughts,  to 
deepen  prejudices,  to  inflame  unsanctified  passions. 
Thus  the  god  of  this  world,  the  prince  of  the  power 
of  the  air,  is  working  by  a  thousand  emissaries  in 


i 


THE   HOLY  ANGELS.  79 

the  hearts  of  the  children  of  disobedience,  and 
multitudes  are  carried  captive  by  Satan  at  his 
will.  So,  also,  on  the  other  hand,  there  are  good 
spirits  in  the  world,  suggesting  thoughts  of  God, 
and  reminding  us  of  Christ  and  heaven.  Holy 
thoughts,  serious  reflections,  come  unlooked  for 
into  the  mind.  They  come  in  our  waking  hours, 
and  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  when  in  society 
and  when  alone.  These  are  whisperings  from 
heaven,  the  suggestions  of  some  ministering  angel, 
either  of  those  who  have  never  fallen,  or,  it  is  not 
unlikely,  of  the  redeemed  from  earth.  For  glori- 
fied spirits  are  as  the  angels  of  God,  enlisted  in 
the  same  service,  and  moving  in  the  same  exalted 
spheres.  It  is  affecting  to  think  that  some  near 
friend,  a  parent,  perhaps,  is  near  to  his  child,  and 
by  an  eloquence  addressed  directly  to  his  heart 
and  conscience,  is  thus  seeking  to  lure  him  to  the 
paths  of  virtue  and  of  Christ. 

Another  class  are  employed  not  only  in  bring- 
ing down  good  influences  from  heaven,  but  in 
carrying  back  good  tidings  from  earth.  They 
are  ascending  and  descending  as  upon  the  ladder 
of  vision.  They  notice  every  instance  of  conver- 
sion.   They  hear  the  sighs  of  the  penitent.    They 


80 


know  the  conflicts  which  agitate  his  bosom.  They 
tremble  in  view  of  his  half  formed  resolutions, 
and  when  at  length  he  comes  to  a  decision,  and 
casts  his  guilty  and  helpless  soul  upon  the  atoning 
blood  of  Christ,  and  thence  feels  in  his  bosom  the 
quickening  influence  of  a  new  life,  angels  carry 
the  news  to  heaven,  and  louder  and  sweeter 
sounds  than  were  warbled  forth  at  creation,  are 
heard  echoing  and  reechoing  throughout  the  king- 
dom of  glory.  "  For  there  is  joy  in  the  presence 
of  the  angels  of  God  over  every  sinner  that  re- 
penteth." 

Another  service  of  angels  is  to  watch  over  the 
people  of  God  while  in  this  state  of  temptation 
and  trial.  The  angel  of  the  Lord  encampeth 
round  about  them  that  fear  him.  My  God,  said 
the  prophet,  hath  shut  the  lions'  mouths  that  they 
have  not  hurt  me.  When  Peter  and  John  were 
incarcerated  for  preaching  the  gospel,  an  angel  of 
the  Lord  by  night  opened  the  prison  doors  and 
brought  them  forth  and  said,  Go  stand  and  speak 
in  the  temple  all  the  words  of  this  life.  Thus  it 
is  the  privilege  of  the  faithful  to  know  that  the 
eye  of  God  is  upon  them,  that  his  ear  is  open  to 
their  cry,  and  that  some  one  or  more  of  the  high 


THE  HOLY  ANGELS.  81 

and  holy  inhabitants  of  heaven,  are  constantly 
near  to  guide  and  guard  us  by  their  superior  wis- 
dom and  power,  and  to  throw  around  us  those 
refreshing  influences  of  sympathy  and  love,  which 
flow  from  pure  and  exalted  natures.  Oftentimes 
the  Christian  when  dying,  has  been  able  to  realize 
that  angels  filled  the  room. 

"  Hark,  they  whisper,  angels  say, 
Sister  spirit,  come  away." 

All  this  is  what  might  be  expected.  Rejoicing  as 
they  do  over  the  sinner*s  conversion,  they  would 
follow  him  to  the  end,  they  would  naturally  be 
present  with  the  dying  saint,  calming  his  fears, 
lighting  up  his  countenance  with  the  smile  of 
peace  and  hope,  and  ready  to  attend  the  clepart>- 
ing  spirit  to  its  home  on  high.  No  retinue  of  the 
victorious  warrior,  no  proud  escort  of  the  sover- 
eigns of  the  earth  can  be  compared  with  that 
which  is  ever  attendant  upon  a  soul  redeemed. 
The  angels  of  God  are  around  the  disciple  from  the 
first;  they  guard  him  amid  every  scene  of  temp- 
tation and  trial ;  they  wipe  away  his  tears ;  they 
inspire  him  with  hope,  and  leave  him  not  until 
the  last  enemy  is  overcome,  and  he  freed  from 


82 


THE   CHRISTLIN  S    GIFT. 


danger,  from  sorrow,  and  from  sin,  shall  become 
himself  as  the  angels  of  heaven,  and  join  with  the 
redeemed  in  that  "new  song,"  "Unto  him  that 
loved  us  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his  own 
blood,  and  hath  made  us  kings  and  priests  unto 
God  and  the  Father,  to  him  be  glory,  dominion, 
and  power,  for  ever.     Amen." 


THE    ANGELS. 

BY  MRS.   ELIZA  WALTON  CLARK. 

Whence  came  the  angels  ?  did  they  come 

From  quick  command,  as  came  the  Light  ? 
Or,  "  clouds  of  glory,"  did  they  roam 
From  some  far  distant  starry  home, 
Beyond  the  reach  of  Sin  and  Night  ? 

Ah  !  surely  they  have  somewhere  known 

A  trial  time,  —  a  test  of  Life. 
Never  had  they  so  lofty  grown 
Had  they  not  bravely,  nobly  borne 

The  upward  march  of  sternest  strife. 


Struggle  must  e'er  success  precede, 
Prizes  reward  tried  loyalty ; 


THE   ANGELS.  83 

And  they  who  shining  legions  lead, 
Doubtless  have  earn'd  that  royal  meed, 
By  tested,  proved  fidelity. 

How  could  they  moral  power  attain, 

Without  the  force  by  which  't  is  won,  — 

Without  resistance,  —  toil  to  gain 

The  highest  good  ?  —  sublimest  pain ! 
Pain  sanctified  by  God's  own  Son ! 

Yet  still,  they  never  may  have  known 

Sin's  guilt ;  its  deep  defiling  gloom. 
—  God's  husbandmen  —  they  may  have  sown 
A  natural  harvest,  —  richly  grown. 

Now  waving  with  immortal  bloom. 

How  blest !  to  feel  no  sinful  stain 

Has  e'er  defaced  the  loyal  soul ; 
No  burden  of  regretful  pain. 
No  evil  habit's  iron  chain 

Has  stamped  the  seal  of  its  control. 

Oh,  that  this  blissful  lot  was  mine ! 

Oh,  that  to  me  the  fate  was  given 
With  angel  purity  to  shine. 
With  angel  gifts  my  path  to  line. 

And  shed  around  a  glow  from  Heaven  I       « 

On  earth  to  bless,  —  on  earth  to  save, 
With  angel  wisdom,  angel  power ! 


84 


THE   CHRISTIAN  S    GIFT. 


While  from  my  soul,  kind  Lethe's  wave 
Would  hurry  to  Oblivion's  grave, 
The  record  of  each  sinful  hour. 

Be  hushed  my  heart !  nor  idly  dream 

Of  angel  blessedness  on  earth ; 
Nor  fancy  that  as  pure  a  gleam 
Would  flow  along  the  Lethean  stream, 
As  on  the  wave  of  heavenly  birth. 


A  wave !  a  sea  of  love  o'erflows, 

Ready  to  wash  away  each  stain ; 
And  deep  we  have,  amid  our  woes, 
One  joy,  that  Gabriel  never  knows, 
—  For  us,  the  Lamb  of  God  was  slain, 

O  Lamb  of  God !  to  us  belongs 

The  matchless  treasures  of  thy  grace ! 

And  all  the  mem'ry  of  thy  wrongs 

Is  lost  amid  the  nobler  songs 

Thus  waked  in  Heaven,  thy  dwelling-place. 

Amid  the  angelic  ranks  above. 

In  shining  garments,  richly  dressed, 
Peculiar  hands  of  spirits  move 
Baptized  with  Thine  own  name  of  Love, 
And  with  Thy  choicest  favor  blessed. 

Such  the  Redeemed;  —  and  know,  my  soul, 
They  keep  for  thee  a  waiting  lyre. 


MY  NAME.  85 


Elect  of  God !  in  Christ  made  whole,  — 
Thou  soon  shalt  join  the  songs  that  roll 
From  Jesus'  own  appointed  choir. 

Help  me,  my  God,  to  keep  in  view 
Christ,  the  Redeemer's  glorious  reign, 

Help  me,  a  mortal's  work  to  do, 

A  mortal's  mission  to  pursue. 

That  I,  an  angel's  place  may  gain  ! 


MY   NAME. 


BY  FLORENCE    PERCY. 

After  you  have  taken  your  new  name  among  the  Angels.' 

In  the  land  where  I  am  going 

When  my  earthly  life  is  o'er,  — 
Where  the  tired  hands  cease  their  striving, 

And  the  tried  heart  aches  no  more,  — 
In  that  land  of  light  and  beauty. 

Where  no  shadow  ever  came. 
To  o'ercloud  the  perfect  glory,  — 

What  shall  be  my  Angel  name  ? 

When  the  spirits  who  await  me. 

Meet  me  at  my  entering  in, 
With  what  name  of  love  and  music 

Will  their  welcoming  begin  ? 

8 


86 


Not  the  one  so  dimmed  with  earth  stains, 
Linked  with  thoughts  of  grief  and  blame, 

No  —  the  name  which  mortals  give  me 
Will  not  be  my  Angel  name ! 

I  have  heard  it  all  too  often, 

Uttered  by  unloving  lips  ; 
Earthly  care,  and  sin,  and  sorrow, 

Dim  it  with  their  deep  eclipse. 
I  shall  change  it,  like  a  garment. 

When  I  leave  this  mortal  frame, 
And  at  Life's  immortal  baptism, 

I  shall  have  another  name  ! 

For  the  Angels  will  not  call  me 

By  the  name  I  bear  on  earth ; 
They  will  speak  a  holier  language. 

Where  I  have  my  holier  birth. 
Syllabled  in  heavenly  music,  — 

Sweeter  far  than  earth  may  claim,  — 
Very  gentle,  pure,  and  tender,  — 

Such  will  be  my  Angel  name  ! 

It  has  thrilled  my  spirit  often. 

In  the  holiest  of  my  dreams  ; 
But  its  beauty  lingers  with  me. 

Only  like  the  morning  beams. 
Weary  of  the  jarring  discord, 

Which  the  lips  of  mortals  frame 
When  shall  I,  with  joy  and  rapture. 

Answer  to  my  Angel  name  ? 


i 


V. 

THE    HOLY   CHILD    JESUS. 


It  is  difficult  to  realize  that  the  Lord  of  glory 
was  a  little  child ;  that  the  Wonderful^  the  Coun- 
sellor,  was  a  babe  in  Bethlehem.  Yet  he  who  as- 
sumed our  nature  for  the  benefit  of  man,  assumed 
all  the  stages  of  it,  that  his  S3mipathy  and  good- 
ness might  flow  forth  to  those  of  every  age  and 
condition  in  life.  Little  is  recorded  of  his  child- 
hood and  youth,  yet  that  Httle  serves  as  a  partial 
opening  through  which  we  can  look  into  his  early 
history.  Why  we  have  not  more,  when  every 
incident  would  have  been  of  such  thriUing  inter- 
est ;  when  every  saying  would  have  been  carefully 
treasured  up  in  the  pious  heart ;  when  so  many 
instructive  examples  might  have  been  gathered 
from  the  youthful  circumstances  and  trials  of  the 
Messiah,  is  a  question  that  perhaps  we  cannot 

(87) 


88 


THE  CHRISTIAN  S    GIFT. 


answer.  It  might  have  been  providentially  nec- 
essary that  he  should  not  in  his  early  life 
attract  too  much  of  the  public  attention,  as  it 
might  embarrass  his  future  plans  and  labors. 
Opposition  might  too  early  have  raged  against 
him,  or  his  qualities  and  powers  and  mission 
might  have  excited  the  jealousy  of  the  rulers  and 
chief  priests,  and  led  to  his  destruction  before  he 
had  entered  upon  the  great  work  of  his  pubHc 
ministry.  The  circumstances  that  followed  his 
birth,  the  terrible  slaughter  of  the  innocents  by 
the  bloodthirsty  Herod,  the  necessary  flight  into 
Egypt,  foreshadowed  his  future,  if  the  public  gaze 
was  intensely  fixed  upon  him.  And  the  fact  that 
after  he  stepped  forth  pubHcly  upon  the  stage  of 
life,  his  presence  and  his  doctrines  were  tolerated 
but  three  short  years,  reveals  sufficiently  what 
would  have  been  his  fate  earher,  had  his  opinions 
and  plans  been  known.  Indeed,  his  obscurity  was 
referred  to  in  the  sneering  inquiry,  "  Is  not  this 
the  carpenter's  son?"  "Can  there  any  good  thing 
come  out  of  Nazareth,"  that  wicked  and  vicious 
town  in  Galilee?  Yet  the  early  circumstances 
and  developments  in  this  mysterious  and  wonder- 
ful life,  were  all  that  a  stupid  and  ungodly  gen- 


THE  HOLY  CHILD  JESUS.  89 

eration  could  receive  with  safety  to  the  young 
Messiah.  If  they  only  knew  of  his  humble  mode 
of  life,  and  that  he  was  a  Nazarene,  they  had  only 
their  own  wickedness  to  thank  for  their  igno- 
rance. Gladly  would  he  earlier  have  withdrawn 
the  veil ;  gladly  would  he  have  unfolded  to  multi- 
tudes, at  this  early  period,  the  great  truths  of  the 
new  dispensation,  but  he  knew  too  well  what 
would  be  the  effects  of  such  a  revelation. 

Still,  although  the  record  is  so  brief  of  the  child- 
hood and  youth  of  Jesus,  we  can  easily  fill  up  the 
outline.  We  can  easly  imagine  through  what 
paths  holiness  would  lead  the  child,  what  duties  it 
would  impose,  and  Avhat  achievements  in  private 
circles,  and  as  opportunities  offered,  would  be 
wrought  out,  through  its  abiding  influence.  We 
have  the  general  statement  by  St.  Luke,  that  he 
"  grew  and  waxed  strong  in  spirit,  filled  with  wis- 
dom :  and  the  grace  of  God  was  upon  him."  But 
we  have  also  an  incident  on  record  through  which 
we  can  look  into  his  youthful  mind,  and  see  the 
principles  working  there,  and  how  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  divine  nature  and  mission  early  de- 
veloped itself  At  the  age  of  twelve  years,  a 
period  which  was  regarded  by  the  Jews  as  the 

8* 


90  THE   christian's    GIFT. 

dividing  line  between  childhood  and  youth,  and 
when  the  regular  study  of  the  Mosaic  law  and 
religious  doctrines  w^as  entered  upon,  the  parents 
of  Jesus  took  him  to  Jerusalem  to  attend  the 
annual  feast  of  the  passover.  At  the  close  of  the 
festival,  on  returning  home,  after  having  gone  a 
day's  journey,  they  missed  the  child,  supposing,  at 
first,  that  he  was  with  some  of  his  relatives  in  the 
company.  It  has  been  intimated,  that  it  argued  a 
want  of  care  and  affection  on  the  part  of  these 
parents,  to  go  a  w^hole  day's  journey  without 
absolutely  knowing  whether  their  child  was  with 
them.  But  the  objection  is  very  easily  explained. 
The  usual  rate  of  travelling  in  the  East,  is  about 
three  miles  an  hour,  and  but  six  or  eight  hours 
are  ordinarily  employed  in  journeying,  out  of  the 
twenty-four,  so  that  a  day's  journey  is  only  twenty 
or  twenty-five  miles.  But  the  first  day  is  an 
exception  to  this,  as  on  that  day  it  is  customary 
to  start  late,  and  go  only  six  or  eight  miles ;  and 
the  company  often  encamp  the  first  night  within 
sight  of  the  city  they  have  left.  The  reason 
assigned  for  this,  is,  that  an  opportunity  may  be 
given,  if  any  thing  has  been  forgotten,  to  return 
to    the    city  and  obtain    it.      One   distinguished 


J 


THE   HOLY    CHILD    JESUS.  91 

traveller  says,  "  We  set  out  from  Aleppo  at  three 
in  the  afternoon,  intending  to  make  only  a  short 
stop  that  evening,  in  order  to  prove  how  well  we 
were  provided  with  necessaries  for  our  journey. 
Our  quarters  this  first  night  we  took  up  at  a  place 
about  one  hour  and  a  half  west  of  Aleppo." 
Other  travellers  testify  to  the  same  custom. 
There  is  nothing,  therefore,  strange  in  the  fact, 
that  while  making  arrangements  for  the  journey, 
and  going  so  short  a  distance,  the  parents  might 
have  supposed  that  their  son  was  with  some  of  the 
company.  In  other  journeys,  his  society  may 
have  been  sought  by  those  who  were  impressed 
with  his  innocence,  his  superior  intelligence,  his 
frank  countenance,  winning  manners,  warm  affec- 
tions, and  instructive  conversation.  We  are  told, 
indeed,  that  as  he  grew  up,  he  increased  in  favor 
with  God  and  man.  He  was  a  perfect  boy  as 
well  as  a  perfect  man.  Doubtless  both  Joseph 
and  Mary  thought  of  him  on  that  first  day  or 
afternoon ;  but  they  thought  of  him  as  entertain- 
ing some  circle  of  relatives  or  friends,  with  whom 
he  had  formed  an  acquaintance  during  the  feast 
of  the  Passover,  and  who  were  now  their  travel- 
ling companions.     We  see  how  natural  it  would 


92  THE  christian's  gift. 

be  for  others  to  put  in  their  claims  for  the  society 
of  the  lad  in  whom  every  lovely  trait,  and  every 
virtue,  shone  so  conspicuously.  We  all  admire  to 
see  these  qualities  in  a  youth.  Integrity,  inno- 
cence, courtesy,  benevolence,  generosity,  in  a 
child,  win  our  confidence  and  excite  our  admira- 
tion. They  shine  as  gems  of  pecuHar  brilliancy 
in  a  character  early  developed.  They  give  a 
charm  to  the  whole  countenance,  —  a  lustre  and 
intelligence  to  the  eye,  —  a  pleasing  expression  to 
every  word,  movement,  and  action.  We  cannot 
suppose  that  this  was  the  first  time  that  Jesus  had 
been  absent  from  his  parents.  He  had  now 
reached  the  age  of  twelve  years,  and  was  obvi- 
ously far  more  mature  than  other  lads  of  his  age. 
He  was  capable,  in  a  measure,  of  thinking  and  act- 
ing for  himself  And  although,  as  we  have  inti- 
mated, he  abstained  from  any  public  manifesta- 
tion of  his  eminent  qualities  and  powers,  yet  he 
availed  himself  of  private  opportunities  of  useful- 
ness. 

As  the  shades  of  evening  fell  upon  the  white 
tents  of  the  encamped  travellers,  the  discovery  is 
made  that  Jesus  was  not  with  the  company. 
Inquiries  were  made  for  him,  from  tent  to  tent. 


THE  HOLY  CHILD  JESUS.  93 

but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  found,  —  no  one  had 
seen  the  lad  since  they  passed  out  of  the  gates  of 
the  city. 

The  parents,  full  of  anxiety  and  fear,  return  to 
Jerusalem.  They  imagine,  that  perhaps  he  is  lost 
in  the  crowd  that  fills  the  city,  or  has  mistaken; 
the  way  in  the  attempt  to  reach  his  home,  or  they 
fear  that  he  may  have  been  assaulted  by  some 
enemy.  The  cry  at  the  dead  of  night,  or  at 
any  time,  "a  child  lost,"  is  full  of  sorrow  and  bit^ 
terness  even  to  the  ear  of  a  stranger.  The 
thought  of  the  little  wanderer,  far  from  his  home,, 
the  anguish  of  the  parents,  the  strong  sympathy 
of  neighbors  and  friends,  the  anxious  searchings, 
all  crowd  upon  the  imagination.  But  how  bitter 
the  loss  to  these  parents  who  had  every  thing 
that  the  heart  could  wish  in  their  holy  child ;  wha 
could  not  be  without  intimations  of  his  mysteri- 
ous mission,  and  the  importance  of  his  life  and 
instruction  to  the  world.  The  day  following  their 
return  to  Jerusalem,  is  spent  in  most  anxious 
searchings  and  inquiries  for  the  lost  one.  Street 
after  street  and  house  after  house  are  visited. 
The  places  of  public  resort  are  thoroughly  exam- 
ined, and  it  is  not  until  the  day  following  that  the 


94  THE  christian's  gift. 

child  is  foundj  —  and  where  was  he  found?  In 
the  spot  that  above  all  others  had  strong  attrac- 
tions for  his  intellectual  and  ardent  spirit. 

In  the  temple  there  was  an  apartment  which 
was  used  as  a  lecture-room  by  the  teachers  of  the 
iaw;  and  where  young  persons  were  examined, 
and  permitted  to  ask  questions  upon  difficult 
points  of  doctrine.  Here  the  holy  child  was  found 
"  sitting  in  the  midst  of  the  doctors ;  both  hearing 
them  and  asking  them  questions."  There  is  no 
intimation,  as  it  has  been  sometimes  represented, 
that  he  was  disputing  with  the  doctors,  but  every 
thing  on  his  part  se^ms  to  have  been  conducted 
with  the  greatest  modesty  and  decorum.  As 
these  teachers  occupied  benches  arranged  in  a 
semicircle^  and  rising  one  above  another,  he  could 
very  properly  be  said  to  be  sitting  in  the  midst 
of  them,  or  sitting  at  their  feet.  And  we  are 
told  that  "  all  that  heard  him  were  astonished,"  or 
as  the  original  Greek  more  literally  signifies, 
"  were  filled  with  the  greatest  wonder  and  admira- 
tion," at  his  profound  understanding  and  his  skill 
in  proposing  and  answering  questions.  His  par- 
ents, too,  on  finding  him  here,  were  amazed: 
"  And  his  mother  said  to  him,  Son,  why  hast  tkou 


THE  HOLY   CHILD    JESUS.  95 

thus  dealt  with  us?  Behold,  thy  father  and  I 
have  sought  thee  sorrowing."  And  he  replied, 
"  Why  did  ye  seek  me  ?  Did  ye  not  know  that 
I  must  be  about  my  Father's  business  ? "  Were 
you  not  aware,  too,  that  he  would  watch  over  and 
protect  me  ? 

From  this  incident  we  see  beaming  forth  from 
the  youthful  Messiah  the  consciousness  of  his  re- 
lations to  the  Father,  and  the  great  work  which 
had  been  assigned  to  him.  He  felt  that  the  tem- 
ple, the  sanctuary  of  the  infinite  Father  was  his 
appropriate  place,  the  proper  field  for  his  earliest 
efforts,  a  fit  arena  for  the  first  development  of  the 
boundless  riches  and  spiritual  treasures  that  were 
hidden  in  his  soul.  Since  his  arrival  in  the  holy 
city,  every  thing  that  he  had  seen  and  heard  must 
have  excited  his  interest  and  stirred  his  intellect- 
ual activities.  The  remembrance  of  the  long 
train  of  associations  connected  with  its  history, 
its  kings,  palaces,  temple,  worship ;  the  degen- 
eracy of  an  ancient  and  venerable  system  of  faith, 
the  ceremonies  connected  with  the  great  festival, 
all  must  have  impressed  more  or  less  deeply  his 
youthful  mind.  With  the  doctrines  of  the  Old 
Testament  he  was  doubtless  familiar,  and  his  con- 


96  THE  christian's  gift. 

versation  with  the  doctors  in  the  temple  was  cal- 
culated to  call  forth  his  hidden  resources,  and 
develop  his  views  of  divine  truth.  Nor  should 
we  wonder  that  the  masters  of  Israel  were  amazed 
at  the  clear  and  profound  knowledge,  the  evi- 
dences of  consummate  wisdom,  the  flashes  of  spir- 
itual light  that  emanated  from  the  lips  of  the 
child  before  them. 

That  there  were  many  incidents  in  the  history 
of  this  wonderful  youth,  of  perhaps  a  similar 
character,  and  certainly  of  thrilling  interest,  we 
cannot  question ;  although  for  wise  purposes  they 
have  not  been  recorded.  If  at  so  early  an  age 
he  must  be  about  his  Father's  business,  must  not 
all  his  subsequent  years  have  been  devoted  to 
this  work?  In  this  one  utterance  we  have  the 
principle  of  his  life,  the  ruling  purpose  of  his  soul. 
And  now  he  desires,  in  all  the  youth  gathered  in 
Christian  communities,  to  multiply  copies  of  him- 
self; to  have  his  virtues,  his  devotion  to  his  Heav- 
enly Father,  his  obedience  to  his  parents,  his  holy 
life,  lived  over  again.  As  his  manhood,  with  its 
heavenly  virtues  and  benevolent  deeds,  stands  as 
an  example  to  all  men,  so  his  childhood  stands  as 
an  example  to  all  the  young.     While  it  is  true 


THE   HOLY   CHILD    JESUS.  97 

that  the  sun  of  righteousness  in  the  zenith  of  its 
glorj  shone  in  its  splendor  upon  the  human  race, 
it  is  equally  true  that  the  first  morning  rays  that 
with  their  freshness,  and  brightness,  and  beauty, 
gilded  the  hill-tops,  were  for  the  little  children. 

As  infancy  has  the  star  of  Bethlehem,  to  guide 
those  who  are  thus  early  called  away  to  the 
realms  of  glory,  so  childhood  has  the  twilight  of 
the  morning,  with  its  opening  prospects  of  beauty 
and  splendor ;  its  fresh  dews  of  divine  grace ;  its 
varied  and  beautiful  illustrations  of  the  divine 
love ;  with  the  music  of  nature  and  the  notes  of 
the  birds,  to  accompany  the  child's  anthem  of 
praise.  And  the  end  of  all  early  Christian  in- 
struction is,  to  induce  children  to  follow  the  holy 
child  Jesus,  to  have  his  pure  spirit,  his  lovely 
traits,  his  devotion  to  the  service  of  his  Father. 

And  do  not  children  need  the  religion  of  Jesus  ? 
Do  they  not  need  it  to  enable  them  to  perform 
aright  the  daily  duties  of  life,  to  help  them  to 
bear  their  trials  and  disappointments  ?  That  they 
have  their  sorrows  oppressive  to  the  young  heart, 
their  keen  disappointments,  no  one  can  for  a  mo- 
ment question.  We  talk  of  the  child's  glee,  his  free- 
dom from  care  and  anxiety;  but  his  little  world  is 

9 


98  THE  christian's  gift. 

far  from  being  all  sunshine.  He  has  his  days  of 
darkness,  his  thwarted  plans,  his  perplexities,  that 
to  his  sensitive  spirit  are  as  much  as  the  heavier 
trials  of  life  to  a  maturer  age.  He  is  without  judg- 
ment, without  experience,  without  discipline.  His 
youthful  imagination  is  indeed  full  of  bright  vis- 
ions of  happiness.  He  will  paint  before  him  a 
world  of  beauty  and  pleasure,  but  how  frequently 
is  it  only  painting.  Why,  were  it  not  for  tears 
as  an  outlet  to  sorrow,  I  believe  that  many  a 
little  heart  would  break.  Those  in  our  Christian 
circles  we  can  rank  among  the  fortunate  and 
happy.  They  have  kind  parents,  a  pleasant  home, 
faithful  and  affectionate  teachers.  They  have 
more  done  for  them,  for  their  comfort,  their  men- 
tal and  moral  culture,  than  any  generation  that 
has  preceded  them.  But  how  many  there  are 
whom  we  meet  in  our  daily  walks  who  suffer 
from  the  extreme  poverty,  ignorance,  or  vice  of 
their  parents ;  whose  young  life  is  a  perpetual 
sorrow  ;  who  have  nothing  that  deserves  the 
name  of  a  home ;  whose  only .  idea  of  parental 
government  is  gained  through  bitter  words  and 
blows;  whose  education  consists  of  lessons  of  de- 
ceipt,  fraud,  and  crime.     The  benevolent  and  lib- 


THE   HOLY   CHILD    JESUS.  99 

eral  do  much  for  this  class;  much  that  is  in  the 
highest  degree  praiseworthy.  But  there  is  noth- 
ing that  can  work  its  way  down  and  reach  these 
unfortunate  classes,  but  the  principles  of  the  holy 
child  Jesus ;  nothing  else  can  roll  from  the  horizon 
of  these  sorrowful  wanderers,  the  dark  clouds  that 
overshadow  them.  Nothing  else  can  sweeten 
their  bitter  cup,  can  relieve  their  young  spirits 
of  their  heavy  burdens,  can  dry  up  their  hot 
tears. 

What  is  there  so  perfectly  adapted  to  the  wants 
of  children  and  youth,  as  the  Hfe,  sympathies,  and 
teachings  of  Jesus  ?  If  it  was  emphatically  true 
that  unto  the  poor  the  gospel  was  preached,  it 
was  equally  true  that  unto  children  the  gospel 
was  preached.  The  invitation  "  Suffer  little  chil- 
dren to  come  imto  me,"  has  a  much  wider  mean- 
ing, than  simply  its  local  reference  to  those  gath- 
ered about  him. 

It. is  an  invitation  sent  out  to  all  children  of 
every  clime,  tongue,  and  generation,  to  come  to 
Jesus,  to  accept  his  proffered  gifts,  to  receive  his 
blessing.  Of  all  the  systems  of  religions  that 
have  claimed  the  attention  of  men,  none  can  com- 
pare with  the  gospel,  in  its  attractions  for  this 


100  THE   CHKISTIAN'S   GIFT. 

class.  These  attractions  and  adaptations  are  so 
numerous,  so  obvious,  so  marked,  that  they  carry 
with  them  proofs  of  the  divine  origin  of  this  sys- 
tem, —  proofs  that  the  little  child  and  the  gospel 
came  from  the  same  source,  the  same  heart  of  in- 
finite love.  As  the  sunlight,  the  beauties  of 
the  world's  scenery,  the  song  of  the  birds,  the 
play  of  the  rivulet,  the  anthem  of  the  ocean 
waves,  are  all  adapted  to  the  eye  and  ear  and 
imagination  of  the  youth,  so  the  gospel  with  its 
pure  principles,  its  bright  hopes,  its  stirring  pros- 
pects, is  adapted  to  the  opening  faculties  of  the 
soul. 

Paganism  casts  children  into  the  Ganges,  and 
sacrifices  them  to  idols.  It  blunts  the  natural  in- 
stincts of  the  parental  heart.  Judaism  confines 
instruction  to  the  ancient  oracles,  the  Mosaic  law. 
It  shuts  the  windows  of  the  mind  against  the 
light  from  the  cross,  steels  the  heart  against  the 
sympathetic  influences  that  flow  from  the  holy 
child  Jesus.  Its  schools  are  set  back  two  thou- 
sand years,  ignoring  all  progress,  all  the  institu- 
tions of  the  Great  Teacher,  all  the  glories  and 
hopes  of  Calvary. 

Komanism  prefers  that  children  should  grow  up 


THE   HOLY    CHILD    JESUS.  101 

in  ignorance  and  vice,  rather  than  receive  any 
education  except  such  as  passes  through  its  hands. 
In  countries  where  it  is  supreme,  it  has  nothing 
that  deserves  the  name  of  schools  for  the  masses. 

And  in  this  country,  had  it  the  power  as  it  has 
the  will,  it  would  cut  off  from  its  children  the 
advantages  that  flow  from  our  public  instruction. 
The  little  of  Christianity  that  remains  in  this  sys- 
tem, reaches  the  children  through  corrupt  chan- 
nels, that  take  from  it  its  purity  and  vitality.  It 
is  as  though  we  should  receive  our  Cochituate 
water  through  rotten  logs  and  poisonous  sub- 
stances, that  would  render  it  injurious  to  health, 
and  almost  unfit  for  use. 

But  the  pure  gospel,  to  personify  a  system, 
takes  children  in  its  arms  and  blesses  them.  It 
blesses  the  intellect,  the  heart,  the  affections.  It 
calls  into  exercise  all  the  faculties,  powers,  and 
lofty  aspirations  of  the  soul.  The  very  medium, 
the  style,  and  imagery  through  which  the  truths 
of  the  gospel  are  communicated,  are  adapted  to 
the  youthful  mind.  Take  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  and  there  is  music,  simplicity,  and  beauty 
in  the  benedictions,  that  pour  forth  from  the  lips 
of  the  Saviour.  The  truths,  important  and  sub- 
9* 


102  THE   christian's  GIFT. 

lime  enough  for  a  God  to  utter,  profound  enough 
to  engage  the  most  cultivated  and  penetrating 
intellect,  are  yet  simple  enough  for  the  humblest 
capacity  !  And  then  throughout  all  the  teachings 
of  the  Saviour,  there  is  so  much  imagery  drawn 
from  the  various  departments  of  nature,  so  many 
illustrations  calculated  to  captivate  the  imagina- 
tion and  interest  the  heart,  that  the  child  cannot 
fail  to  be  attracted  towards  them.  The  most 
successful  books  placed  in  the  hands  of  children, 
those  that  they  most  greedily  seek,  are  such  as 
are  most  beautifully  and  abundantly  illustrated. 
A  single  picture  will  often  convey  more  than 
pages  of  written  description.  Now  what  is  the 
New  Testament  but  an  illustrated  copy  of  divine 
truth  ?  What  are  the  parables  but  beautiful  pic- 
tures wrought  by  a  divine  artist  ?  What  child  can 
fail  to  be  touched  by  the  story  of  the  good  Samar- 
itan, by  the  incidents  in  the  career  of  the  prodi- 
gal son,  by  the  contrast  presented  in  the  case  of 
the  ten  virgins,  in  the  case  of  the  rich  man  and 
Lazarus  ?  Those  who  have  reached  manhood,  can 
all  remember  how  these  pictorial  scenes  became 
early  interwoven  with  their  thoughts,  how  each 
bore  into  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  mind  an  im- 


THE   HOLY    CHILD    JESUS.  103 

portant  truth.  The  life,  too,  of  Jesus  from  the 
rude  manger  to  the  glorious  ascension,  is  one  ever 
changing  panorama  of  beauty,  thrilHng  incidents, 
lights  and  shadows,  representations  of  joys  and 
hopes,  fears,  friendships,  and  treacheries.  The 
angelic  announcement  of  the  miraculous  birth, — 
the  star  in  the  east,  —  the  visit  of  the  wise  man, 
—  the  flight  into  Egypt,  —  the  entrance  upon  the 
pubhc  ministry,  —  the  reception  of  the  Saviour 
by  various  classes,  his  miracles,  words  of  kind- 
ness, blessed  doctrines,  his  arrest,  mock  trial, 
scenes  of  the  crucifixion,  the  resurrection,  and 
the  final  departure  to  his  glorious  home,  all  are 
calculated  to  impress,  interest,  and  win  the  young. 
And  the  efiect  is  seen  in  the  large  proportion 
of  youth  who  rally  around  the  standard  of  the 
cross. 

Yes,  I  repeat  it,  Christianity  is  the  children's 
religion,  and  they  should  all  love  it.  For  it 
creates  for  them  happy  Christian  homes,  kind 
parents,  and  the  various  domestic  and  social  ben- 
efits by  which  they  are  surrounded.  It  creates  for 
them  Christian  churches  where  they  may  be  taught 
the  way  of  life ;  where  they  may  be  led  upward 
to  the  gates  of  the  celestial  and  everlasting  city. 


104  THE   christian's    GIFT. 

It  creates  for  them  systems  of  education  that 
will  prepare  them  for  the  duties,  responsibilities, 
and  joys  of  life.  It  gives  not  only  attractive  vir- 
tues, but  moral  courage,  strength  of  principle,  and 
those  elements  of  character  that  the  interests  of 
society,  and  the  exigencies  of  our  times  demand. 
The  youth  who  has  in  his  heart  the  principles  of 
the  holy  child  Jesus,  will  in  manhood  manifest 
those  qualities  which  shone  so  conspicuously  in  the 
public  life  of  the  Messiah;  qualities  as  necessary 
now  as  they  were  at  the  period  of  our  Saviour's 
advent.  Christianity  creates  for  them  mansions  in 
the  skies.  And  to  all  children  who  love  the  holy 
Jesus,  he  says,  "  I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you." 


SONNET. 
THE  CHILDREN  WHOM  JESUS  BLESSED. 

Happy  were  they,  the  mothers,  in  whose  sight 
Ye  grew,  fair  children !  hallowed  from  that  hour 
By  your  Lord's  blessing !  surely  thence  a  shower 
Of  heavenly  beauty,  a  transmitted  light 
Hung  on  your  brows  and  eyelids,  meekly  bright, 
Through  all  tiie  after  years,  which  saw  ye  more 


THE   CHILD    READING   THE   BIBLE.  105 

Lowly,  yet  still  majestic,  in  the  might, 

The  conscious  glory  of  the  Saviour's  love ! 

And  honored  he  all  childhood,  for  the  sake 
Of  that  high  love !     Let  reverential  care 

Watch  to  behold  the  immortal  spirit  wake, 
And  shield  its  first  bloom  from  unholy  air ; 

Owning,  in  each  young  suppliant  glance,  the  sign 

Of  claims  upon  a  heritage  divine. 

Mbs.  Hemans. 


THE    CHILD    READING    THE    BIBLE. 

"  A  dancing  shape,  an  image  gay, 
To  haunt,  to  startle  and  waylay. 
****** 
A  being  breathing  thoughtful  breath, 
A  traveller  between  life  and  death." 

Wordsworth. 

I  SAW  him  at  his  sport  ere  while. 

The  bright,  exulting  boy. 
Like  summer's  lightning  came  the  smile 

Of  his  young  spirit's  joy ; 
A  flash  that  wheresoe'er  it  broke, 
To  life  undreamt-of  beauty  woke. 

His  fair  locks  waved  in  sunny  play. 
By  a  clear  fountain's  side,         ^ 


106 


Where  jewel-colored  pebbles  lay 

Beneath  the  shallow  tide ! 
And  pearly  spray  at  times  would  meet 
The  glancing  of  his  fairy  feet. 

He  twined  him  wreaths  of  all  spring  flowers, 
Which  drank  that  streamlet's  dew ; 

He  flung  them  o'er  the  wave  in  showers, 
Till,  gazing,  scarce  I  knew 

Which  seemed  more  pure,  or  bright,  or  wild. 

The  singing  fount,  or  laughing  child. 

I  saw  once  more  that  aspect  bright  — 
The  boy's  meek 'head  was  bowed 

In  silence  o'er  the  Book  of  Light, 
And,  like  a  golden  cloud  — 

The  still  cloud  of  a  pictured  sky  — 

His  locks  drooped  round  it  lovingly. 

And  if  my  heart  had  deemed  him  fair. 

When  in  the  fountain  glade, 
A  creature  of  the  sky  and  air. 

Almost  on  wings  he  played ; 
Oh  !  how  much  holier  beauty  now 
Lit  the  young  human  being's  brow ! 

The  being  born  to  toil,  to  die. 

To  break  forth  from  the  tomb. 
Unto  far  nobler  destiny 

Than  waits  the  skylark's  plume ! 


THE   CHILD    READING    THE   BIBLE.  107 

I  saw  him  in  that  thoughtful  hour, 
Win  the  first  knowledge  of  his  dower. 

The  soul,  the  awakening  soul  I  saw ; 

My  watching  eye  could  trace 
The  shadows  of  its  new-born  awe, 

Sweeping  o'er  that  fair  face : 
As  o'er  a  flower  might  pass  the  shade 
By  some  dread  angel's  pinion  made  ! 

The  soul,  the  mother  of  deep  fears. 

Of  high  hopes  infinite. 
Of  glorious  dreams,  mysterious  tears, 

Of  sleepless  inner  sight' : 
Lovely,  but  solemn  it  arose. 
Unfolding  what  no  more  might  close. 

The  red-leaved  tablets,  undefiled. 

As  yet,  by  evil  thought  — 
Ohl  little  dreamed  the  brooding  child. 

Of  what  within  me  wrought. 
While  his  young  heart  first  burned,  and  stirred, 
And  quivered  to  the  eternal  Word. 

And  reverently  my  spirit  caught 

The  reverence  of  Ms  gaze  ; 
A  sight  with  dew  of  blessing  fraught 

To  hallow  after-days ; 
To  make  the  proud  h^art  meekly  wise. 
By  the  sweet  faith  in  those  calm  eyes. 


108 


THE   CHRISTIAN  S    GIFT. 


It  seem'd  as  if  a  temple  rose 
Before  me  brightly  there, 

And  in  the  depthg  of  its  repose 
My  soul  o'erflow'd  with  prayer, 

Feeling  a  solemn  presence  nigh  — 

The  power  of  infant  sanctity  ! 


O  Jesus !  mould  my  heart  once  more, 

By  thy  prevailing  breath ! 
Teach  me,  Oh  !  teach  me  to  adore 

E'en  with  that  pure  one's  faith  ;• 
A  faith,  all  made  of  love  and  light, 
Childlike,  and  therefore  full  of  might ! 

Mrs.  Hemans 


VI. 

ELEMENTS    OF   A   HAPPY   HOME, 

BY    EEV.    ANDREW    L.    STONE. 


When  the  Psalmist  David  rehearses  the  good- 
ness of  God  to  the  children  of  men,  not  the  least 
memorable  or  precious  of  those  divine  favors,  in 
his  view,  is  the  constitution  of  the  family  estate. 
It  is  not  only  God  that  has  made  us  social  beings, 
and  adapted  us  by  his  forming  hand  to  the  scenes 
of  domestic  life,  —  not  merely  his  loving  act  that 
united  the  Eden  pair  and  hallowed  and  blessed 
the  first  marriage,  but  the  same  good  Providence, 
thoughtful  for  human  comfort,  that  still  girds  and 
cheers  the  solitary  heart  with  the  ties  and  joys  of 
home. 

The  family  is  in  a  higher  and  truer  sense  than 
the  State  a  divine  institution  —  the  first  mo^del  of 
the  State  —  its  government  and  law  a  miniature 

10  (1^^) 


110  THE    christian's    GIFT. 

of  the  paternal,  patriarchal  government  of  God. 
We  cannot  overrate  the  importance  of  this  insti- 
tution, the  grandeur  of  this  little  community. 

That  which  has  ruined,  that  which  has  saved 
men,  the  most  pestilent,  the  most  conservative 
power  wielded  upon  their  morals  and  fortunes,  is 
lodged  in  the  influences  of  their  homes.  Cast 
upon  the  heart  of  a  young  man  the  spell,  the 
golden  fetters  of  a  happy  home,  and  there  is  no 
more  puissant  force  of  earthy  to  hold  him  back 
from  vice  and  crime.  Heap  upon  him  the  gloom 
and  misrule  of  domestic  anarchy  and  discomfort, 
and  he  will  rush  away  into  whatsoever  riotous 
paths,  to  shake  off  this  terrible  incubus.  There 
may  be  faithful  and  earnest  preaching  at  church, — 
there  may  be  youthful  bands  that  link  their  pray- 
ing cordon  around  the  tempted,  —  there  may  be  a 
public  sentiment,  largely  imbued  with  the  sancti- 
ties of  a  Christian  faith,  and  yet  with  all  these 
helps  and  constraints,  he  who  is  cursed  with  a  cheer 
less,  repulsive  home,  is  almost  surely  lost  to  virtue 
and  hope.  This  is  strong  language,  but  a  thousand 
sad  histories  start  up  to  justify  it.  One  who  is 
chained  to  such  a  type  of  domestic  life,  will  get 
as  far  away  from  it  as  his  chain  will  permit,  — 


ELEMENTS    OF   A   HAPPY   HOME.  Ill 

will  seek  elsewhere  the  joys  and  pleasures  denied 
liim  there,  encircle  himself  with  other  bonds  of 
companionship,  sit  down  at  hearthstones  more 
genially  lighted  than  his,  grow  reckless,  because 
hopeless,  about  the  domestic  side  of  his  personal 
character.  The  tendrils  of  the  household  aifec- 
tions,  the  clinging  sympathies,  the  invested  hopes 
that  bind  other  hearts  to  duty  and  virtue,  for  the 
sake  of  those  who  love  them,  are  shorn  from  him; 
what  hinders  that  he  give  free  course  to  his  ready 
passions,  and  stride  sullenly  out  of  this  domestic 
desolation,  into  the  wild  freedom  of  a  life  of  sense 
and  lust!  It  is  therefore  a  question  of  no  sec- 
ondary moment,  What  are  soine  of  the  elements  of  a 
happy  home,  and  how  mat/  we  realize  them  in  our  own 
families  ? 

We  take  up  this  question  with  a  family  already 
constituted,  breaking  in  upon  it  anywhere  along 
the  track  of  their  history.  It  shall  be  a  family 
complete  in  the  various  relations  that  describe  its 
most  comprehensive  ideal,  —  husband  and  wife, 
parents  and  children,  brothers  and  sisters.  Or  if 
this  limit  somewhat  the  application  of  the  subject, 
shutting  out  of  its  sphere  the  households  whose 
integrity  death  has  broken  and  marred,  it  shall  be 


112  THE   christian's    GIFT. 

a  family  where  there  is  yet  the  parental  and  the 
filial  relation,  abiding  in  living  union.  How  shaU 
this  family  make  to  itself  a  happy  home-history ! 

We  do  not  go  back  with  this  family,  to  the 
evening  of  that  wedlock  that  joined  two  hearts 
together,  fellow-pilgrims  for  life.  That  is  a  fore- 
gone fact,  whether  wisely  or  unwisely  concluded, 
out  of  the  question  now,  at  the  stage  of  the  his- 
tory which  our  discussion  takes  up.  It  is,  indeed, 
a  momentous  fact,  and  powerfully  shapes  all  the 
developments  of  that  history.  If  it  were  a  hasty 
and  ill-advised  union,  bringing  together  into  such 
a  close  and  sacred  intimacy,  spirits  greatly  uncon- 
genial, and  responsible  thus  for  discordant  ele- 
ments already  existing  there  in  force  and  not 
easily  harmonized,  it  is  a  serious,  a  tremendous 
obstacle  to  the  realization  of  such  a  family  state 
as  we  design  to  hold  up ;  but  the  evil  is  not  abso- 
lutely incurable,  and  the  question  we  have  asked, 
is  nowhere  of  graver  and  more  commanding  in- 
terest than  in  this  very  case. 

Let  us  begin  with  a  negative  or  two. 

First.  Not  wealth  and  style.  We  need  no  other 
argument  here  than  that  drawn  from  our  common 
observation.     Eiches  can  claim  no  monopoly  of 


ELEMENTS    OF   A   HAPPY   HOME.  113 

the  warm  aifections  of  the  heart.  Wealth  has  no 
special  power  to  braid  around  the  spirits  of  the 
household,  the  fibres  of  a  close,  generous,  and  lively 
sjonpathy.  The  dwellers  amid  plenty  are  not 
those,  necessarily,  who  draw  nearest  together  and 
feel  each  other's  kind  and  strong  support.  A 
parent  is  no  more  truly  a  parent,  because  his  child 
is  born  to  him  in  scenes  of  luxury  and  splendor. 
The  child  has  no  less  a  heart  beating  with  filial 
love  and  gratitude,  because  the  father  who  feeds 
him  does  it  at  the  price  of  his  daily  toil  The 
conjugal  relation  is  no  less  intimate  and  tender, 
because  those  who  share  it  must  lean  together  to 
be  firm  against  the  shocks  of  adversity.  Within 
stately  mansions  there  may  be  as  well  as  else- 
where, causes  of  dissension  and  strife,  jealousies, 
rivalries,  and  heari>bumings,  —  grief  that  drinketh 
up  the  spirit  over  wayward  children,  for  whom 
gold  has  paved  the  path  to  vice,  —  many  a  life- 
long experience  of  splendid  misery.  Many  such 
families,  reduced  to  want,  have  felt  that  they 
never  knew  till  that  test  revealed  it,  the  worth 
and  sweetness  of  domestic  sympathy  and  love,  — 
the  blessed  union  of  souls  for  the  first  time  flow- 
ing together,  and  cemented  together  under  the 

10* 


114  THE   CHRISTUN's    GIFT. 

pressure  of  these  new  trials.  The  flowers  in  the 
social  as  in  the  natural  life,  bloom  in  the  quiet 
valleys,  as  prodigal  of  beauty  and  of  fragrance,  as 
on  proud  summits,  —  the  violet  "  heart's-ease,"  is 
as  sweet  growing  wild  in  the  meadows,  as  amid 
the  pride  of  decorated  gardens. 

Secondly.  Not  polisJied  manners.  We  do  not  mean 
to  undervalue  any  degree  of  external  culture,  es- 
pecially in  this  connection,  —  that  which  regulates 
our  intercourse  with  one  another.  We  shall 
include  by  and  by  in  the  positive  elements  to  be 
named,  the  basis  of  all  genuine  courtesy,  all  true 
politeness.  But  courtly  etiquette  in  the  family 
mansion  is  not  identical  with  domestic  harmony, 
and  is  no  substitute  for  it  There  may  be  stately 
morning  greetings,  and  elaborate  formalities  at 
the  dinner-table,  and  bows  and  compliments  and 
flourishes,  all  perfect  as  exquisite  training  can 
make  them ;  all,  too,  without  the  least  touch  of 
nature  in  them ;  all  frigid  as  the  ice  of  the  poles. 
The  ease  of  a  well-bred  manner,  may  simulate 
somewhat  the  freedom  and  frankness  of  an  aflec- 
tionate  and  confiding  spirit,  but  it  is  not  the  same 
thing.  Beneath  it  there  may  rankle  wounded 
pride  and  betrayed  affections,  and  burn  the  lurid 


ELEMENTS    OF   A   HAPPY   HOME.  115 

fires  of  domestic  hate.  Beneath  it  there  may  be 
veiled  tyrannous  passions,  corrupt  sentiments,  and 
licentious  habits.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
communion  of  honest  and  pure  hearts,  loving  and 
blessing  one  another,  may  express  itself  as  fully 
and  gracefully  in  homely  and  honest  words,  in 
the  unaffected  simplicity  of  straightforward  dec- 
larations and  demonstrations,  and  receive  as 
choice  and  careful  a  nurture  in  such  homely  inter- 
course, as  though  in  speech  and  manner  it  were 
altogether  Parisian. 

Thirdly.  Not  the  uninterrupted  smiles  of  Provi- 
dence. If  this  were  indispensable,  there  were  no 
happy  homes  on  earth.  If  this  were  actual,  many 
of  the  tenderest  scenes  of  the  household  history, 
that  knit  heart  with  heart,  that  open  the  deepest 
and  purest  fountains  of  feehng,  that  administer 
the  most  needful  and  the  most  healthful  discipline 
of  life,  were  just  impossible. 

First  of  all,  then,  the  grandest  element  of  such 
an  earthly  paradise  is,  that  it  be  a  Christian  Jwme. 
If  the  entire  membership  of  the  family  be  not  in 
the  strictest  personal  sense  Christian,  at  least  the 
reigning  influences  there  that  control  the  habits 
of  the  family,  that  characterize  its  history,  that 


116 


give  tone  and  law  to  its  interchanges,  must  be 
Christian  influences.  God  must  be  honored 
there,  —  approached,  worshipped,  confided  in,  as 
a  father  and  friend.  His  hand  must  be  seen  and 
blessed  in  the  daily  bounty,  —  His  watch  and  care 
entreated  and  enjoyed  by  night  and  by  day, — 
God's  word,  with  its  perfect  rules  of  living,  its  light 
in  all  perplexity,  its  comfort  in  all  sorrow,  its  heri- 
tage of  glory  and  peace  revealed  to  faith,  must 
make  its  varied  utterances  audible.  The  Lord's 
day,  —  the  triumphal  record  of  Christ's  victory 
over  death,  commemorative  of  that  Saviour's 
finished  work,  in  whom  alone  the  soul  has  hope 
of  immortahty,  —  must  be  there  a  hallowed  day. 
The  gracious  mission  of  the  Enlightener,  the 
Sanctifier,  the  Comforter,  must  be  recognized  and 
welcomed. 

Doubtless  in  homes  whence  this  element  is 
exiled,  there  may  be  family  affection,  cheerful 
smiles,  mutual  confidences,  pleasures,  and  pastimes. 
But  in  every  such  home  there  is,  after  all,  a 
broad  and  sombre  shadow.  However  momen- 
tarily chased  away,  it  ever  returns  and  lifts  its 
gloom  between  lamplight  and  firelight,  and  the 
soul.     It  follows  each  one  to  the  chamber  of  re- 


I 


ELEMENTS    OF   A   HAPPY   HOME.  117 

tirement ;  it  enters  with  each  into  the  cell  of  soli* 
tary  thought ;  it  drops  its  cold  dews  upon  all  the 
yearnings  of  natural  affection ;  it  drapes  the 
future  in  night.  There  is  an  uneasy,  restless 
conscience  in  each  bosom,  —  a  dull,  aching  sense, 
not  always  to  be  laid  to  sleep,  that  God  is  not  the 
tutelar  divinity  of  that  home,  —  a  fear  of  provi- 
dences, lest  they  shall  come  to  crush  the  idols  of 
the  heart,  and  to  scourge  its  neglect  of  God.  And" 
that  terminal  point  of  all  their  pleasant  fellow- 
ship, where  each  shall  say  adieu  and  step  out  into 
the  darkness  and  be  seen  no  more,  is  one  they 
shudder  to  fix  their  eyes  upon. 

No,  this  is  not  the  ideal  of  our  happy  home^ 
What  shall  preserve  the  youth  of  that  home  from 
the  snares  of  life  ?  What  shall  lay  the  throbbing: 
nerve  of  parental  anxiety  to  rest  ?  What  shall 
the  heart  of  the  sick  do  for  support,  or  the  more 
sorely  tried  heart  of  the  watcher  ?  What  solace 
in  affliction,  what  hope  in  death  ? 

But  in  the  Christian  home  God's  presence  is  a? 
sun  by  day,  a  lamp  by  night.  The  dwellers  there 
can  look  upon  all  possible  calamities,  with  a  reli- 
ant confidence  in  this  sure  word,  "  All  things  work 
together  for  good  to  them  that  love  God."     Each 


118 


THE    CHRISTIAN  S    GIFT. 


heavy,  pressing  solicitude,  is  a  burden  laid  down 
at  Jesus'  feet  in  believing  prayer.  By  the  pillow 
of  the  sick  rises  the  soul's  strong  cry  to  the  prayer- 
throne,  and  '^fear  not "  drops  the  soft  answer  out 
of  heaven.  In  the  deep  waters  of  trouble,  the 
Lord's  hand  is  near,  as  he  walketh  the  waves  to 
meet  the  sinking  spirit.  Together  in  their  dark- 
est hours  whatsoever  lights  of  earth  grow  dim, 
they  lift  their  chant,  "  we  are  troubled  on  every 
side,  yet  not  distressed ;  we  are  perplexed,  but 
not  in  despair ;  persecuted,  but  not  forsaken ;  cast 
down,  but  not  destroyed."  They  who  dwell  be- 
neath this  roof,  if  not  themselves  lovers  of  God, 
feel  safer  there  because  of  the  midnight  camp  of 
angels  round  about.  They  cannot  so  easily  go 
forth  from  that  threshold  into  the  paths  of  excess, 
and  when  at  length  to  any  of  them  this  home  is 
only  a  memory,  it  is  a  memory  that  holds  them 
fast  to  purity  and  virtue.  These  few  hints  of 
the  power  of  this  element  must  now  suffice,  as 
we  have  more  yet  to  say. 

There  must  be  in  this  home  a  spirit  of  hoiiseJiold 
hve.  It  must  keep  itself  fresh  and  young.  It 
must  think  over  all  the  endearing  thoughts  that 
first  fed  its  ardor.     It  must  add  to  these,  as  new 


ELKMENTS    OF   A   HAPPY   HOME,  119 

strands  of  strength,  the  later  histories.  It  must 
guard  against  coldness,  and  all  the  occasions  of  it 
It  must  rouse  itself  from  all  lethargies  of  indiffer- 
ence. The  interest  of  the  ties  assumed,  all  their 
suggestions  of  tenderness,  all  that  they  properly 
imply  of  fervent  attachment,  must  be  often  medi- 
tated. Never  did  vestals  guard  the  fire  on  the 
altar  with  such  sleepless  and  vigilant  fidelity,  as 
this  sacred  flame  on  the  altar  of  the  heart  must 
be  guarded. 

This  household  affection  must  not  be  content 
with  existing.  It  must  express  itself  It  must  use 
words  that  convey  it.  It  must  utter  itself  in  the 
sincere  language  of  action.  There  is  a  powerful 
reflex  influence  from  every  such  demonstration 
upon  the  sentiment  itself,  cherishing  and  strength- 
ening it.  How  beautiful,  how  lovely  are  these 
ovations  continued  down  to  old  age ;  how  they 
grace  tremulous  lips,  and  kindle  on  withered 
cheeks  the  bloom  of  youth!  The  example  set 
by  the  heads  of  the  family  in  this  matter,  sheds  a 
happy  contagion  on  all  the  circle ;  and  that  is  a 
happy  and  attractive  home  because  love  is  regent 
there,  and  pours  its  unclouded  sunshine  upon 
every  face.     Even  Christian  households  may  fail 


120  TiiE  christian's  gift. 

in  the  warmth  and  brightness  of  this  domestic 
love. 

There  must  be  also  a  spirit  of  mutual  forbearance. 
Natural  love  and  duty,  Christian  love  and  duty, 
both  prompt  to  this.  None  in  the  circle  are  quite 
perfect.  There  are  flaws  enough  in  each  charac- 
ter, if  one  will  set  out  to  pick  them.  There  are 
infirmities  of  temper.  There  will  be  lowering 
and  ominous  moods.  Each  member  there  must 
call  up  his  most  loving  patience  when  any  of 
these  clouds  flit  across  the  sky.  If  he  lift  up 
sharp  points  of  irritation  then,  the  nimble  light- 
nings out  of  the  cloud  will  leap  to  the  attack ; 
the  thunders  will  peal  their  rattling  volleys,  and 
the  storm  gather  way.  We  must  not  see  all  the 
changes  that  come  upon  the  spirit  of  another; 
rather  we  must  not  s5em  to  see.  We  must  be 
blind,  deaf,  dumb  to  many  an  exhibition  of  char- 
acter, that  will  retreat  ashamed  behind  the  scenes, 
if  w^e  give  it  a  little  space  and  trial  unwatched 
for  its  evolutions.  If  we  insist  each  that  the 
other  shall  be  faultless,  how  shall  we  ourselves 
meet  the  demand? 

There  must  be  again  a  spirit  of  cheerfulness  there. 
Some   truly  pious  families  have   succeeded   but 


1 


ELEMENTS    OF  A   HAPPY   HOME.  121 

poorly  in  attaching  their  younger  members  to  the 
scenes  of  home  because  of  the  austerity,  the  set- 
tled, unbroken  gravity  which  they  habitually 
maintain.  The  parents  conscientiously  wish  to 
guard  their  sons  and  daughters  from  the  mere 
frivolities  and  vanities  into  which  light-hearted 
youth  plunges  so  eagerly ;  and  so  put  on  a  more 
forbidding  soberness  than  perhaps  they  are  aware 
of  The  direct  religious  influence*  sought  to  be 
exacted,  is  of  a  solemn,  lugubrious  cast, —  sermons 
very  sombre  and  sad  colored.  The  effect  is  not 
happy.  Eeligion  comes  thus  to  be  looked  upon 
something  as  the  dark  closet  in  which  naughty 
children  are  shut  up,  a  place  of  gloom  and  cap- 
tivity rather  than  a  sun-lighted  chamber  of  joy 
and  peace.  The  impatient  captives  are  glad  and 
eager  to  escape  from  such  a  chilling  thrall,  into- 
the  air  and  the  open  blue  sky.  Nothing  should 
be  so  cheerful  in  that  home  as  rehgion  itself,  ini 
all  its  lessons  and  all  its  examples.  It  should  be 
seen  to  promote  cheerfulness  in  those  that  have 
the  most  of  it,  to  brush  all  sourness  from  the  face 
and  temper,  to  pour  the  rippling  light  of  smiles 
across  the  countenance,  and  key  the  tongue,  not 
to  a  melancholy  minor,  but  to  strains  of  lightsome 

11 


122  THE  christian's  gift. 

music.  Every  thing  in  the  home  should  be  made 
to  wear  a  cheerful,  genial,  warm  look.  A  bright 
fire  will  keep  a  restless  spirit  in  doors,  when  a 
dull,  black  stove  will  drive  him  out  in  search  of 
something  brighter.  All  the  graceful  art  one  can 
exercise  in  the  style  and  disposition  of  furniture, 
however  humble,  to  make  the  place  of  domestic 
gathering  put  on  a  welcoming,  cheerful  aspect, 
should  be  sedulously  exercised.  This  place  should 
be  lighted  well,  if  it  may  be,  at  nightfall,  to  drive 
the  gloom  out  of  its  dingy  corners,  and  make 
even  the  walls  smile  an  invitation  to  the  denizens 
to  remain  there  and  be  happy. 

The  words  that  are  spoken  at  meeting  and 
parting,  the  salutations  of  the  morning,  the  "  good- 
night," should  have  a  hearty,  cordial,  inspiriting 
tone,  full  of  love  and  cheerfulness.  Let  it  not  be 
thought  these  are  little  things.  The  great  cable 
that  anchors  a  ship  is  twisted  of  finest  fibres. 
The  charm  that  binds  a  strong-willed  youth  to  his 
home,  has  its  hidden  magic  in  just  such  infinitesi- 
mals of  domestic  life. 

There  must  be  a  spirit  of  order  in  this  home. 
Wholesome  law,  authority  wise  and  firm,  must 
regulate  the  internal  machinery  of  this  sphere. 


ELEMENTS    OF   A   HAPPY   HOME.  123 

The  obedient  child,  even  if  his  obedience  has 
often  to  be  enforced  and  corrected  by  the  pres- 
sure of  the  family  government  upon  him,  is  hap- 
pier than  the  child  who  has  his  own  way.  The 
sway  of  this  administration  over  him  must  be 
evm,  impartial,  steady,  not  fitful,  not  impulsive,  now 
lenient  and  facile,  now  screwed  up  to  a  despotic 
severity.  It  must  rest  always  upon  the  authority 
of  God,  upon  its  right  divinely  commissioned, 
and  be  careful  always  to  push  its  appeals  hard 
upon  the  conscience.  A  well-ordered  home,  in 
which  the  hours  of  rising  and  resting,  of  toil  and 
recreation,  of  worship  and  of  whatsoever  occupa- 
tion, are  wisely  appointed,  and  steadfastly  adhered 
to,  will  be  a  happier  home,  more  influential,  more 
restraining,  more  conservative  and  formative  to 
good  character,  than  one  where  chance  is  left  to 
rule  and  dine  at  her  own  lawless  shrines. 

There  must  be  a  spirit  of  honor  in  this  home. 
"We  mean  that  fine  sense  of  justice  which  discerns 
with  most  delicate  perception  what  each  owes  to 
each,  and  pays  all  its  dues.  There  is  no  other 
stable  basis  for  what  is  called  politeness  than  this, 
no  courtesy  worth  the  naming  or  having,  that  is 
not  founded  in  this.     It  teaches  that  each  mem- 


124  THE  christian's  gift. 

ber  of  the  household,  the  humblest  as  well  as  the 
head,  has  his  rights,  his  own  importance,  feelings 
and  properties,  that  are  to  be  held  inviolable.  It 
inculcates  a  nice  observance  of  these  rights,  a 
respect  for  them,  an  acquiescence  in  them,  that 
shall  be  mutual  and  unjudging.  We  know  of  a 
father  who  provided  for  each  child  a  place  of 
deposit  for  his  own  little  store  of  treasures, — 
books,  toys,  and  other  valuables, — which  was  pro- 
tected by  rigid  and  inflexible  law,  law  with  its 
penalties,  too,  from  all  invasion  by  an  alien  hand. 
The  same  father  ordained  that  the  written  papers 
of  each,  letters  from  other  pens,  lucubrations  from 
their  own,  were  to  be  regarded  as  sacred  from  all 
prying  eyes,  and  any  infractions  of  this  law  were 
dealt  with  in  a  way  that  dissuaded  from  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  offence.  So  there  grew  up  in  that 
home  a  code  of  honor  which  outlived  childhood 
and  formed  manhood.  We  have  heard  of  a  father 
whose  custom  was,  if  he  had  himself  inadvertently 
trespassed  upon  the  personal  rights  or  comforts  or 
properties  of  a  child,  to  offer  amplest  and  sincerest 
apologies.  The  efiect  of  this  practice  upon  the 
children  was  most  marked.  It  magnified  in  their 
regard  that  law  of  mutual  respect,  and  made  it 


I 


ELE^IENTS    OF   A   HAPPY   HOME.  125 

honorable.  Instead  of  impairing  the  parental  dig- 
nity it  seemed  always  to  heighten  their  reverence 
for  it.  Instead  of  inflating  them  with  a  sense  of 
their  self-importance,  it  cultivated  in  them  a  singu- 
lar spirit  of  self-forgetfulness,  and  led  them  to  copy 
the  same  carefulness  of  confession  if  they  had  in- 
fringed the  rights  of  another.  Here,  as  elsewhere, 
parental  example  is  the  most  beautiful,  impressive, 
and  effective  lesson  to  set  before  the  pupil.  You 
would  have  a  gentle  child,  —  be  yourself  gentle 
toward  him,  —  you  cannot  scold  him  and  storm 
him  into  gentleness.  A  tempest  in  the  sky  makes 
a  tempest  on  the  sea.  Calm  weather  overhead 
gives  a  placid  surface  below, — just  mirroring 
back  the  tranquillity  above  it.  You  would  have  a 
courteous  group  of  sons  and  daughters.  Be  cour- 
teous and  polite  in  your  own  intercourse  with 
them,  obeying  practically  the  law  you  set  up  as 
their  rule. 

There  must  be  specific  measures  to  entertain  this 
Jiome  circle.  You  will  not  have  them  go  to  the 
theatre  or  the  billiard-room  for  their  entertain- 
ment. You  wiU  not  let  them  seek  the  revel  and  the 
dance.  Then  you  must  provide  some  substitute, 
—  something  that  shall  enliven  and  profit,  amuse 

11* 


126 


THE   CHRISTIAN  S    GIFT. 


and  instruct.  It  may  tax  your  time,  your  inge- 
nuity, your  patience  and  strength  to  do  this.  But 
the  object  is  as  well  worth  the  cost  as  any  for 
which  you  can  make  the  outlay.  Home  must  be 
pleasant  to  them.  The  chief  attractions  of  life 
must  centre  there.  Temptations  of  the  baser  sort 
will  thus  become  comparatively  harmless  and 
powerless.  Cheerful  household  games,  in  which 
you  shall  perhaps  share,  must  enUven  one  hour. 
Narratives  of  interest  out  of  stirring  histories 
must  fill  another.  Books  that  address  the  eye 
with  pictures  of  a  wholesome  moral,  must  be  pro- 
vided for  the  juveniles, — and  books  that  address 
mind  and  heart  and  fancy  for  those  older,  whole- 
some and  healthful  also.  The  parent  must  show 
that  he  enters  into  this  effort  to  interest  and  en- 
tertain with  all  his  heart,  —  that  they  are  happy 
hours  to  him  as  well  as  to  them,  —  that  he  appre- 
ciates their  need  and  sympathizes  with  it.  He 
must  never  grow  old.  He  must  be  a  child  in 
these  quick  vibrant  sensibilities,  so  long  as  there 
is  a  child  beneath  his  roof  Many  an  absorbed 
and  breathless  hour  may  he  hold  the  listeners  fast 
to  his  lips  with  the  morals  of  the  Book  of  Books, 
till  the  stories  of  Isaac,  and  Joseph,  and  Moses, 


ELEMENTS   OF   A   HAPPY   HOME.  127 

and  Samson,  and  David,  and  Goliah,  of  the  child 
Jesus,  and  the  crucifixion  and  the  early  martyrs, 
are  familiar  as  household  words.  Music  in  the 
home  must,  if  possible,  lend  its  charm,  —  and 
evenings  of  pleasant  social  converse  be  permitted 
and  encouraged. 

He  who  opens  such  magazines  of  blessing  at 
his  own  fireside  for  the  beloved  ones  gathered 
there,  who  sheds  the  benign  influences  of  Chris- 
tianity upon  them  from  their  first  cradled  hours, 
who  breathes  and  inculcates  a  spirit  of  domestic 
love,  of  forbearance  toward  infirmities,  of  cheerful- 
ness, of  order,  of  honor,  and  who  busies  himself  to 
multiply  in  every  way  the  attractiveness  of  the 
place  and  the  scene,  this  man  has  mastered  the 
chief  elements  of  a  happy  home.  He  has  secured 
thus  not  only  present  joys  and  comforts,  but  has 
woven  for  himself  and  his,  cords  and  bands  of 
strength  that  under  God  will  save  them  all  from 
the  wrecks  of  this  life,  from  perdition  in  that 
which  is  to  come. 

It  is  a  most  solemn  and  awful  charge  which  he 
has  undertaken,  who  opens  and  administers  a 
home  of  his  own.  No  other  sphere  of  life  lies 
so  near  the  seminal  beginnings  of  character,  the 


128 


THE   CHKISTIAN  S    GIFT. 


determinate  forces  of  destiny.  If  any  of  these 
hints  shall  help  and  stimulate  any  soul  in  a  mis- 
sion so  perilous  and  momentous,  this  our  labor 
will  not  have  been  spent  in  vain. 


THE    LIGHT    OF    HOME, 


BY  MRS.   HALE. 


My  boy,  thou  wilt  dream  the  world  is  fair, 

And  thy  spirit  will  sigh  to  roam ; 
And  thou  must  go ;  but  never,  when  there. 

Forget  the  light  of  home. 

Though  pleasure  may  smile  with  a  ray  more  bright, 

It  dazzles  to  lead  astray ; 
Like  the  meteor's  flash,  't  will  deepen  the  night, 

When  thou  treadest  the  lonely  way. 

But  the  hearth  of  home  has  a  constant  flame. 

And  pure  as  vestal  fire ; 
'T  will  burn,  't  will  burn,  for  ever  the  same. 

For  nature  feeds  the  pyre. 


The  sea  of  ambition  so  tempest-tost. 
And  thy  hopes  may  vanish  like  foam  ; 

But  when  sails  are  shivered  and  rudder  lost, 
Then  look  to  the  light  of  home ;  — 


THE  TWO   HOMES.  129 

And  then,  like  a  star  through  the  midnight  cloud, 

Thou  shalt  see  the  beacon  bright ; 
For  never,  till  shining  on  thy  shroud, 

Can  be  quenched  its  holy  light. 

The  sun  of  fame,  't  will  gild  the  name, 

But  the  heart  ne'er  felt  its  ray ; 
And  fashion's  smiles,  that  rich  ones  claim, 

Are  but  beams  of  a  wintry  day. 

And  how  cold  and  dim  those  beams  must  be. 
Should  life's  wretched  wand'rer  come ; 

But,  my  boy,  when  the  world  is  dark  to  thee, 
Then  turn  to  the  light  of  home. 


THE    TWO    HOMES. 

BY  EMILY   B.    CARROLL. 

I  HAVE  two  homes,  two  happy  homes, 
By  God,  my  Father,  given  ; 

One  precious  home  is  here  on  earth. 
My  other  home  is  heaven. 

I  think  upon  my  earthly  home, 

And  sweet  emotions  rise  ; 
Yet  still  my  spirit  longs  to  reach 

My  home  above  the  skies. 


130 


THE   christian's    GIFT. 


The  glories  of  my  home  above 
Nor  pen,  nor  tongue  may  tell, 

For  none,  save  spirits  sanctified, 
In  that  bright  land  may  dwell. 

Two  babes,  two  darling  babes  are  mine 

In  my  dear  earthly  home, 
I  have  one  angel  child  on  high 

That  beckons  me  to  come. 

Sickness  and  sorrow  here  on  earth 
Oppress  the  friends  we  love, 

But  joy  and  blessedness  alone 
Dwell  in  our  home  above. 

Oh,  glorious,  blessed,  heavenly  home ! 

Thy  glories  who  can  tell  ? 
Or  half  thy  wondrous  beauty  paint, 

Brio;ht  land  where  anjrels  dwell  ? 


My  Father  !  hear  my  earnest  prayer, 

For  thou  I  dearly  love ; 
Oh,  take  us  all,  when  life  is  o'er, 

To  our  bright  home  above  ! 


I 


VII. 

THE    RESURRECTION. 


It  must  be  admitted  that  the  doctrine  of  the 
resurrection  of  the  body,  is  one  full  of  inexpli- 
cable difficulties  to  the  human  reason.  When  we 
see  all  the  intricate  and  delicate  machinery  of 
this  wondrous  frame  suddenly  stopped;  and  the 
various  organs  of  sight,  hearing,  taste,  and  touch, 
gradually  yield  up  their  life  power,  and  become 
only  so  much  inanimate  matter ;  when  we  see  de- 
cay invading  that  with  which  we  have  associated 
beauty,  grace,  strength,  and  health,  and  leav- 
ing of  the  symmetrical  form  only  an  unsightly 
skeleton  and  repulsive  dust;  when  we  view  the 
earth  as  covered  over  with  silent  graves  and 
crumbling  tombs,  and  remember  that  time  has 
effaced  the  very  resting-places  of  imcounted  mill- 
ions, the  inquiry  will  force  itself  upon  the  reason, 

(131) 


132  THE  christian's  gift. 

can  these  bodies  rise  again,  and  these  forms  ap- 
pear again  upon  the  stage  of  activity  and  con- 
scious life  ?  Does  it  fall  within  the  bounds  of 
possibility  that  these  myriads  of  every  genera- 
tion, clime,  class,  and  condition,  shall  be  remem- 
bered and  followed  through  all  their  solitary  jour- 
neyings,  and  various  changes,  not  a  single  one 
escaping  the  notice  of  him  upon  whom  rests  the 
care  and  the  management  of  the  affairs  of  this, 
to  us,  boundless  universe  ?  Will  the  sea  give  up 
its  dead,  and  the  battle  fields  return  to  life  the 
millions  whose  dust  has  long  mingled  with  the 
sods  ?  Will  every  grave  and  tomb,  the  wide  and 
pathless  cities  of  the  dead  now  underlying  the 
cities  of  the  living ;  the  sands  of  the  desert,  the 
mountain  cliffs,  the  quiet  valley,  and  the  extended 
plain,  all  be  again  animating  with  the  life  princi- 
ple ?  Will  this  cold  earth,  that  for  so  many  ages 
has  swung  in  its  orbit,  bearing  the  dust  of  count- 
less generations,  and  up  to  this  hour  giving  no 
signs  of  reanimation  of  one  who  has  fallen,  ex- 
cept in  the  few  miraculous  instances  that  felt  the 
touch  of  the  Redeemer's  power,  will,  I  say,  this 
earth  receive  back  to  its  surface,  all  the  forgotten 
nations  and  kingdoms,  and  bear  up  a  living,  con- 


THE   RESUKRECTION.  133 

sciousj  active  multitude,  as  numerous  as  the  pres- 
ent census  of  the  dead  ? 

Besides,  it  may  be  asked,  what  important  ends 
can  be  subserved  by  disturbing  the  material,  and 
what  we  term,  the  perishable  part  of  man  ?  Why 
shoiild  a  being  who  by  the  word  of  his  power  can 
speak  a  universe  of  worlds  and  systems  into  being,. 
can  people  the  solitudes  of  limitless  space  with 
bright  suns,  and  stars,  follow  the  wandering  dust 
of  past  generations,  and  depend  upon  that  as  the 
material  out  of  which  to  frame  immortal  and  glo- 
rious bodies  fitted  to  a  celestial  sphere  ? 

The  unaided  intellect  of  man  as  developed  in; 
ancient  heathenism,  and  in  the  philosophy  of 
Greece  and  Rome,  entertained  and  cherished  the 
belief  in  a  future  state  of  being.  But  its  concep- 
tion of  the  happiness  of  that  state,  involved  the 
idea  of  a  separation  of  the  soul  from  the  body. 
The  body  was  regarded  as  the  cause  of  suffering,. 
the  avenue  of  pain,  disease,  and  death.  It  was 
looked  upon  as  a  gloomy  prison,  whose  walls  con- 
fined the  expanding  powers  and  lofty  aspirations 
of  the  soul.  Its  passions  and  sordid  desires,  were 
regarded  as  so  many  chains  that  bound  down  the 
soul  to  a  degraded  service.  In  modern  times, 
12 


134 


THE   CHRISTIAN  S   GIFT. 


deists  and  sceptics  have  united  with  Pagan  philos- 
ophers in  these  views  of  the  happiness  of  the 
future  state. 

But  as  in  the  case  of  some  other  important 
truths  in  our  system  of  faith,  we  go  to  the  book 
of  Kevelation  for  hght  upon  this  point.  We  enter 
upon  no  quarrel  with  the  dictates  of  human  rea- 
son, or  the  deductions  of  sound  philosophy,  or  the 
teachings  of  science.  In  approaching  the  masters 
of  spiritual  knowledge,  the  inspired  teachers  of 
the  human  family,  especially  the  Great  Teacher, 
we  bring  our  reason  with  us,  that  it  may  be  sat- 
isfied. We  bring  our  regard  for  the  principles  of 
philosophy  and  science,  knowing  that  the  same 
Infinite  Being  presides  over  every  department  of 
knowledge,  and  will  see  to  it  that  truth  is  always, 
and  everywhere,  consistent  with  itself 

Among  the  earHest  Jewish  writers  it  is  not  easy 
to  discover  distinct  traces  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
resurrection  of  the  body.  Language  is  used  by 
some,  by  Job  and  David,  which  has  been  quoted 
as  proof  of  the  doctrine.  But  other  passages  may 
be  cited  from  these  writers  which  show  that  they 
had  no  clear  conceptions  of  it.  The  later  proph- 
ets, however,  give  decisive  intimations  of  a  belief, 


THE   RESURRECTION.  135 

more  or  less  general,  among  the  Israelites,  in  the 
resurrection  of  the  body.  One  of  the  clearest  is 
the  declaration  of  Daniel,  "Many  of  them  that 
sleep  in  the  dust  of  the  earth  shall  awake,  some 
to  everlasting  life,  and  some  to  shame  and  ever- 
lasting contempt."  At  the  period  of  the  Saviour's 
advent  it  is  clear  that  a  behef  in  this  doctrine 
prevailed  generally  among  the  Jews,  although  it 
was  strongly  opposed  by  the  Sadducees ;  and  some 
of  the  Pharisees  entertained  the  opinion  that  the 
wicked  would  not  rise  again.  The  conversation 
with  Christ  in  regard  to  the  state  of  marriage  in 
the  resurrection,  —  the  declaration  of  Martha  re- 
specting her  brother,  "  I  know  that  he  shall  rise 
again  in  the  resurrection  at  the  last  day  ; "  —  and 
the  assertion  of  St.  Paul,  "I  am  a  Pharisee,  the 
son  of  a  Pharisee ;  of  the  hope  and  resurrection 
of  the  dead  I  am  called  in  question,"  —  are  suffi- 
cient to  show  the  state  of  public  opinion,  at  that 
time,  upon  this  question. 

But  it  was  reserved  for  the  Great  Teacher  him- 
self to  establish  this  truth  upon  a  firm  and  divine 
basis,  and  to  throw  upon  it  a  flood  of  light,  that 
would  render  it  conspicuous  among  the  funda- 
mental articles  of  our  religious  faith.     And  when 


136  THE  christian's  gift. 

we  see  the  importance  which  Christ  attached  to 
the  doctrine,  the  frequency  with  which  he  refers 
to  it  in  his  teachings,  its  intimate  connection  with 
his  personal  history,  and  our  relations  with  his 
own  resurrection  from  the  dead,  we  cannot,  as 
Christians,  treat  it  slightly;  nor,  as  some  have 
done,  argue  away  its  substance,  retaining  the  lan- 
guage as  only  giving  a  figurative  representation 
of  the  doctrine  of  the  future  life.  In  those 
sacred  and  stirring  utterances,  "  The  hour  is  com- 
ing when  the  dead  shall  hear  the  voice  of  the 
Son  of  God;"  "For  the  Lord  himself  shall  de- 
scend  from  heaven  with  a  shout,  with  the  voice 
of  the  archangel,  and  with  the  trump  of  God: 
and  the  dead  in  Christ  shall  rise  first;"  in  the 
plain  and  unqualified  declaration,  "  God  both 
raised  up  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  will  also  raise  up  us, 
by  his  own  power ; "  in  the  honest  inquiry  of  St. 
Paul  before  Agrippa,  "  Why  should  it  be  thought 
a  thing  incredible  with  you,  that  God  should  raise 
the  dead?"  —  in  the  argument  for  our  resurrec- 
tion, based  upon  the  fact  of  Christ's  resurrection, 
in  all  these,  I  find  something  more  than  mere 
figures  of  speech.  I  find  lurking  somewhere  in 
this  language,  a  fact  or  truth  which  is  properly 


THE   RESURRECTION.  137 

denominated  the  resurrection  of  the  body.  If  all 
the  various  presentations  and  discussions  and  ar- 
guments, connected  with  this  truth,  can  be  turned 
to  signify  simply  a  spiritual  resurrection,  —  if 
they  are  simply  made  to  bear  upon  the  doctrine 
of  a  future  life  already  so  extensively  believed  in 
by  the  heathen  as  well  as  by  the  Jews  and  Chris- 
tians, then  an  equal  liberty  may  be  taken  with 
the  language  relating  to  any  other  gospel  truth. 

We  can  account  for  the  great  stress  laid  upon  the 
fact  of  Christ's  resurrection,  the  anxiety  to  prove 
it,  the  great  interests  which  the  apostle  is  willing 
to  stake  upon  it,  only  on  the  ground  that  it  is  a 
type  and  evidence  of  man's  resurrection.  What 
can  be  plainer  than  these  words :  "  For  since  by 
man  came  death,  by  man  came  also  the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  dead.  For  as  in  Adam  all  die,  even  so 
in  Christ  shall  all  be  made  alive  ; "  that  is,  the 
body  shall  be  reanimated,  so  that  rewards  and 
punishments  may  be  received  according  to  the 
deeds  done  in  the  body.  Nor  can  we  sympathize 
with  those  proud  Greeks  of  Paul's  day,  and  the 
modern  sceptics  who  mock  at  the  idea  of  the  res- 
urrection, on  the  ground  that  the  body,  the  physi- 
cal nature  of  man,  is   too   worthless   to  receive 

12* 


138  THE  christian's  gift. 

such  attention  from  the  Almighty.  It  is  true, 
that  it  is  corruptible,  —  that  it  has  been  defiled, 
defaced,  —  that  it  is  the  avenue  of  suffering,  — 
that  it  is  often  weak  and  diseased, — that  its  appe- 
tites and  passions  make  successful  war  upon  its 
beauty,  vigor,  and  life ;  but  still  St.  Paul  says  to 
the  Corinthians,  "  Know  ye  not  that  your  body  is 
the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost  ?  "  And  again  he 
says,  "  If  any  man  defile  the  temple  of  God,  him 
shall  God  destroy ;  for  the  temple  of  God  is  holy, 
which  temple  ye  are."  The  human  body  is  not, 
therefore,  a  worthless  thing,  as  many  contend. 
Though  fallen,  it  yet  bears  the  marks  of  its  divine 
origin,  the  traces  of  the  skill,  wisdom,  and  power 
of  an  Almighty  architect.  It  is  the  residence  of 
an  immortal  spirit;  the  medium  through  which 
that  spirit  communicates  with  the  outer  world, 
with  the  beautiful  decorations  of  its  earthly  abode, 
with  the  stars  above,  with  the  page  of  knowledge, 
with  history,  poetry,  science,  and  theology.  A 
few  ideas  are  innate,  but  how  few  compared  with 
those  that  reach  the  mind  through  the  senses. 
And  if  one  sense  is  taken  away,  hearing  or  sight, 
how  remarkable  the  increased  power  of  the  re- 
maining senses,  that  they  may  do  the  work  of  the 


THE   RESURRECTION.  139 

whole  !  Had  we  still  other  organs  opening  into 
other  departments  of  nature,  communicating  with 
the  essence  and  occult  laws  of  the  objects  around 
us;  or  were  the  powers  of  the  organs  already 
conferred  greatly  increased,  so  that  the  eye  might 
reach  the  most  distant,  and  detect  the  most  minute 
object,  without  the  aid  of  telescope  or  microscope ; 
so  that  the  ear  might  gather  sounds  not  only  from 
every  part  of  the  earth,  but  from  distant  worlds ; 
we  readily  see  how  the  range  of  mental  effort  and 
achievement  might  be  greatly  enlarged.  It  is 
true,  that  among  men  bearing  a  similar  physical 
structure,  and  having  the  same  organs,  there  are 
wide  differences  of  character,  attainment,  and  in- 
tellectual power ;  it  is  true  that  the  mind  is  the 
sovereign,  bearing  the  relations  to  the  body  that 
the  infinite  bears  to  the  finite,  the  immortal  bears 
to  the  mortal ;  it  may  be  true  that  the  mind  is 
endowed  with  a  ceaseless  activity,  that  even  when 
the  body  sleeps  it  is  still  awake ;  and  yet  it  may 
be  also  true,  that  in  the  future  life,  as  in  this,  the 
mind  for  its  fullest  exercises  and  highest  develop- 
ment, will  need  something  that  at  least  approxi- 
mates towards  a  material  organization. 

But  there  is  something  more  in  the  language 


140  THE   christian's    GIFT. 

of  the  apostle  which  adds  to  the  value  and  dig- 
nity of  the  human  body.  It  was  erected  as  a 
temple  of  the  living  God.  By  the  act  of  creation 
it  was  consecrated  to  worship.  After  it  was  built, 
the  great  Architect  rested.  The  first  morning 
sun  that  Adam  beheld,  shone  upon  a  Sabbath. 
His  first  duty  was  adoration,  his  first  exercise  was 
praise.  And  we  may  readily  suppose  that  among 
all  the  Deity's  works,  he  delights  most  of  all  to 
enter  that  upon  which  his  greatest  power  and 
skill  have  been  expended,  —  that  which  bears  his 
own  image  and  likeness,  —  that  which  is  most 
capable  of  worship.  What  are  structures  of  wood 
or  stone,  what  are  mountain  temples  with  all  their 
grandeur  and  sublimity,  what  is  even  the  costly 
and  splendid  temple  of  Solomon,  compared  with 
this  temple  !  What  are  all  the  sacrifices  upon 
Jewish  altars,  compared  with  the  sacrifice  of  one 
broken  and  contrite  heart !  What  was  the  Holy 
of  holies  which  the  high-priest  so  reverently 
entered,  compared  with  a  soul  which  God  has 
made  his  abode,  blessed  with  his  sacred  influences, 
and  inspired  with  his  Holy  Spirit ! 

The  Saviour  while   upon  the  earth   is   repre- 
sented as  knocking  at  the  door  of  this  temple, 


THE   RESURRECTION.  141 

anxious  to  be  admitted,  that  he  may  purify  it, 
rebuild  its  altars,  and  restore  its  worship.  And 
now  as  our  great  High-Priest  he  is  at  the  right 
hand  of  the  Father,  cooperating  with  him  in  the 
great  work  of  rebuilding  fallen  temples,  and 
making  earth  and  heaven  vocal  with  the  praises 
of  the  Kedeemer. 

But  dropping  all  imagery,  and  admitting  the 
proposition  that  the  Bible  teaches  the  doctrine  of 
the  resurrection,  the  inquiry  presents  itself,  what 
is  the  precise  nature  of  this  truth  ?  "  How  are 
the  dead  raised  up,  and  with  what  body  do  they 
come  ?  "  "  No  fact,"  says  one  writer,  "  in  physio- 
logical science  is  better  ascertained,  than  that  the 
human  body,  in  regard  to  its  constituent  particles, 
is  in  a  state  of  constant  flux.  It  is  perpetually 
undergoing  a  process  of  waste  and  reparation. 
Strictly  speaking,  no  man  has  the  same  body  now 
that  he  had  seven  years  ago,  as  it  is  in  about  this 
period  that  a  complete  change  is  held  to  take 
place  in  the  bodily  structure,  by  which  we  may 
be  said  to  be  corporeally  renovated.  This  is  a 
fact  established  by  physiology,  and  the  proof  of 
it,  we  believe,  is  entirely  beyond  all  doubt.  .  .  . 
The  question  then  again  recurs.  What  body  is  to 


142  THE  christian's  gift. 

be  raised  ?  A  person  who  dies  at  the  age  of  sev- 
enty has  had  ten  different  bodies.  Which  of  these 
is  to  be  the  body  of  the  resurrection  ?  Is  it  the 
body  of  infancy,  of  childhood,  of  youth,  of  man- 
hood, or  of  old  age  ? "  Besides,  the  dust  of  the 
departed  body  is  scattered  in  every  direction.  It 
enters  into  new  combinations,  new  existences. 
Millions  of  bodies  have  been  by  various  causes 
removed  from  the  graves  and  tombs  in  which 
they  were  once  deposited.  The  mummy  remains 
have  been  taken  from  the  numerous  cemeteries 
of  Egypt,  and  consumed  for  fuel,  or  otherwise 
destroyed.  Of  thousands  who  have  been  swal- 
lowed up  by  the  great  deep,  probably  no  visible 
traces  now  remain. 

To  all  these  difficulties  and  objections  we  have 
one  answer,  and  that  is  in  the  language  of  an  in- 
spired apostle.  "That  which  thou  sowest  is  not 
quickened  except  it  die ;  and  that  which  thou 
sowest,  thou  sowest  not  that  body  that  shall  be, 
but  bare  grain ;  it  may  chance  of  wheat  or  some 
other  grain ;  but  God  giveth  it  a  body  as  it  hath 
pleased  him,  and  to  every  seed  his  own  body." 
Now  the  leading  idea  of  this  passage  is,  that  as  in 
the  seed  there  is  a  germ  from  which  the  plant 


THE   RESURRECTION.  143 

springs,  when  a  large  portion  of  the  seed  has  rot- 
ted in  the  earth,  so  there  is  in  the  body  a  germ, 
or  a  something,  in  some  measure  corresponding 
with  this,  from  which  will  spring  the  resurrection 
body,  and  by  which  our  identity  will  be  pre- 
served. Under  this  view  it  is  not  necessary  that 
the  particles  of  matter  that  constituted  the  de- 
parted and  buried  body,  should  enter  into  the 
constitution  of  the  resurrection  body.  Indeed, 
the  apostle,  by  affirming  that  the  grain  which  is 
produced  from  the  seed  is  not  the  very  body  that 
is  sown,  intimates  that  the  body  to  be  raised  is  not 
composed  of  the  constituent  elements  or  particles 
of  the  buried  body.  It  is  enough  that  the  iden- 
tity is  preserved,  as  through  aU  the  changes  in 
this  life  the  identity  of  the  human  body  is  pre- 
served. The  adult  or  the  aged  man  may  say  that 
he  has  the  same  body  now  that  he  had  on  the 
day  of  his  birth,  although  the  original  particles 
may  have  all  passed  away.  What  this  germ  or 
life  principle  is  that  preserves  this  personal  iden- 
tity or  sameness,  amid  all  the  material  changes 
through  which  the  body  passes,  we  cannot  accu- 
rately determine.  Nor  is  it  necessary  to  our  argu- 
ment that  we  should.     The  same  God  who  by  his 


144  THE  christian's  gift. 

almighty  power  giveth  to  the  grain  a  body  as  it 
hath  pleased  him,  and  every  seed  its  own  proper 
body  or  plant,  is  equally  able  to  vivify  the  germ 
on  which  our  personal  identity  depends,  and 
cause  this  corruptible  to  put  on  incorruptible, 
and  this  mortal  to  put  on  immortality. 

But  what  shall  we  say  of  the  appearance  and 
character  of  the  risen  body?  That  it  will  be 
essentially  different  from  the  human  body  of  flesh 
and  blood,  and  that  we  can  form  no  adequate  con- 
ceptions of  its  form,  qualities,  and  capabilities,  are 
propositions  equally  true.  We  have  the  general 
statement  that  Christ  will  change  these  bodies 
and  fashion  them  like  unto  his  glorious  body. 
But  we  have  also  a  more  definite  statement  of 
the  points  of  difference  between  the  risen  and  the 
buried  body.  The  first  great  fact  announced  is, 
"It  is  sown  in  corruption,  it  is  raised  in  incor- 
ruption."  In  this  particular  its  nature  must  un- 
dergo a  radical  change.  For  what  among  the 
higher  works  of  the  Creator  is  more  frail  than 
the  human  body  ?  With  all  the  skill  and  wisdom 
expended  upon  it,  with  the  various  and  .compli- 
cated means  adopted  to  protect  it  from  danger 
and  accident,  with  its  natural   power  to  endure 


THE   RESURRECTION.  145 

hardship,  and  resist  disease ;  with  its  recuperative 
forces  that  are  ready  to  act  with  promptness  and 
vigor,  its  life  is  yet  compared  to  a  passing  vapor,  to 
a  summer  cloud,  to  a  flower  fresh  and  beautiful  to- 
day, and  to-morrow  faded  and  fallen.  The  stars, 
the  mountains,  the  hills  and  valleys  and  fields 
remain,  but  that  which  so  absorbs  our  interest, 
and  upon  which  so  many  desires  centre,  passes, 
like  a  shadow,  away.  The  principle  of  dissolu- 
tion is  hid,  as  it  were,  in  the  heart,  by  the  side  of 
the  life  principle.  The  two  seem  almost  to  beat 
together.  We  can  scarcely  think  of  the  latter 
without  having  the  former  suggested  to  the  mind. 
Sit  down  and  meditate  upon  life,  its  prospects,  joys, 
possible  achievements,  its  riches,  honors,  thrones 
of  influence,  seats  of  power,  and  if  your  thoughts 
are  allowed  to  flow  in  a  natural  channel,  they 
will  end  with  the  contemplation  of  death.  Let  a 
vivid  imagination  build  the  most  beautiful  and 
richly  adorned  castles  of  hope  and  joy  that  fancy 
ever  produced  ;  and  after  gazing  for  a  few  brief 
moments  upon  it,  you  will  see  the  mists  rising  in 
the  horizon,  and  the  dark  shadows  obscuring  its 
brilliancy,  and  the  evidences  rapidly  accumulating 
that  it  is  passing  away.     But  beyond  the  grave, 

13 


146  THE  christian's  gift. 

in  that  other  life,  the  fundamental  characteristic 
principle  of  the  body  is  just  the  opposite  of  that 
which  characterizes  it  here.  Permanency  takes 
the  place  of  change ;  incorruption  rules  in  the 
place  of  corruption.  No  disease  can  invade  the 
body.  No  accident  can  harm  it.  No  exertions 
can  exhaust  it.  It  is  proof  against  pain,  against 
the  ravages  of  time,  against  all  those  evils  that 
here  make  war  with  its  powers.  It  is  imperisha- 
ble as  the  everlasting  throne,  as  the  kingdom 
which  it  has  entered,  as  the  God  it  serves. 

It  is  also  sown  in  dishonor.  That  which  is 
called  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  is  in  another 
connection  called  a  vile  body.  He  whose  spirit 
was  filled  with  the  most  glowing  aspirations,  who 
had  consecrated  body  and  soul  to  the  service  of 
his  master,  who  was  urged  forward  by  the  most 
stimulating  and  sublime  motives  that  ever  im- 
pelled a  human  being,  could  yet  exclaim,  "O 
wretched  man  that  I  am,  who  shall  deliver  me 
from  the  body  of  this  death ! "  Sown  in  dishonor ! 
Dishonored  by  sin,  by  grovelling  appetites  and 
passions,  by  long  courses  of  evil.  Marred  by 
grasping  avarice,  brutalized  by  lust,  wasted  by 
disease !     But  raised  in  glory !     How  shall  we  in- 


THE   RESURRECTION.  147 

terpret  these  words  ?  "We  have  as  little  concep- 
tion of  a  glorious  body,  as  we  have  of  the  glories 
of  heaven.  To  the  three  favored  disciples  upon 
the  mount  of  transfiguration  there  was  given  the 
view  of  a  glorious  body,  when  the  face  of  the 
Saviour  shone  as  the  sun,  and  his  raiment  was 
white  and  brilliant  as  the  light.  But  those  who 
are  familiar  only  with  terrestrial  objects,  must  rest 
content  with  vague  hints,  and  faint  conceptions 
of  the  reality.  We  can  say  but  little  more  than 
that  the  glorious  body  will  be  in  every  particular, 
the  direct  opposite  of  the  dishonored  body  that  is 
deposited  in  the  grave.  Instead  of  the  habili- 
ments of  sin,  it  will  be  clothed  in  the  robes  of 
righteousness.  Instead  of  deformity,  and  features 
that  repulse,  it  will  bear  the  impress  of  the  beauty 
of  holiness.  Instead  of  the  grossness  of  a  mate- 
rial organization,  it  will  be  ethereal  as  the  light, 
and  pure  as  the  nature  of  an  angel.  Every  organ, 
faculty,  feature,  and  power  will  be  radiant  with 
heavenly  splendor. 

"  It  is  sown  in  weakness."  "  All  nations  before 
him  are  as  nothing ;  and  they  are  counted  to  him 
less  than  nothing  and  vanity."  "  He  knoweth  our 
frame,  he  remembereth  that  we  are  dust."    Man  is 


148 


a  strange  compound  of  weakness  and  strength,  of 
indecision  and  resolution,  of  effeminacy  and  en- 
ergy. But  old  age  and  disease  reveal  his  weak- 
ness and  dependence.  As  he  feels  the  tide  of  life 
fast  ebbing,  and  the  objects  that  have  so  inter- 
ested and  excited  him  here  rapidly  fading  from 
his  vision  ;  as  the  limbs,  once  so  active,  gradually 
refuse  to  perform  their  office,  and  the  brain  grows 
dull,  and  the  heart  beats  languidly,  there  is  a  deep 
consciousness  that  the  body  is  sinking  into  the 
grave  under  the  burden  of  its  weakness. 

But  it  shall  be  raised  in  power.  At  the  sum- 
mons of  the  last  trumpet's  peal,  it  will  come  forth 
clothed  with  strength,  endowed  with  a  divine 
energy.  The  glow  of  an  unwonted  vigor  will 
pervade  every  limb,  and  organ,  and  faculty.  No 
amount  of  effort  will  be  followed  by  weariness. 
As  though  borne  upon  the  wings  of  the  morning, 
it  will  traverse  the  wide  heavens,  renewing,  at 
every  stage  of  the  flight,  its  strength.  Upon  the 
loftiest  heights  of  the  spiritual  Zion  it  will  run 
and  not  be  weary,  it  will  walk  and  not  faint. 

^  It  is  sown  a  natural  body,"  a  body  with  ani- 
mal instincts,  passions,  and  frailties;  a  body 
adapted  to  a  material  and  earthly  state  of  ex- 


THE   RESURRECTION.  149 

istence.  It  is  raised  a  spiritual  body,  an  ethereal 
essence,  pure  as  the  light,  brilliant  as  the  sun, 
destined  to  shine  in  another  firmament,  as  the 
stars  forever  and  ever.  The  precise  nature  of  a 
spiritual  body  we  cannot  define.  All  we  can  do 
is,  to  hang  around  our  conception  of  it,  the  most 
perfect  images  of  beauty,  purity,  loveliness,  and 
holiness  that  fall  within  the  range  of  our  knowl- 
edge. It  is  a  body  adapted  to  a  spiritual  ex- 
istence, to  the  service  of  a  spiritual  Deity.  No 
spot  or  blemish  is  upon  it.  No  material  clogs 
limit  the  bounds  of  its  activity.  No  low  desires 
or  pursuits  check  its  soaring  and  lofty  aspirations. 
It  is  like  Christ's  glorious  body,  and  when  we  be- 
hold that,  we  shall  be  able  to  interpret  the  lan- 
guage of  the  apostle. 

Has  not  a  kingdom,  to  be  filled  with  such 
beings,  strong  attractions  to  the  Christian  ?  Shall 
he  not  lift  his  eyes  from  the  material  and  the 
perishable  and  fix  them  upon  the  spiritual  and 
the  immortal?  Shall  he  not  listen  to  catch  strains 
of  the  music  that  comes  from  those  far-off  regions? 
Shall  he  not  open  his  heart  to  the  influence  of 
those  thrilling  motives  and  stirring  appeals  that 
come  from  the  bright  home  of  the  righteous  ? 
13* 


150 


THE   CHRISTIAN  S    GIFT. 


"  Blessed  and  holy  is  he  that  hath  part  in  the 
first  resurrection ;  on  such  the  second  death  hath 
no  power,  but  they  shall  be  priests  of  God  and  of 
Christ,  and  shall  reign  with  him." 


"IF   A  MAN  DIE,  SHALL   HE  LIVE  AGAIN?" 
Job  14:  14. 

How  oft  this  eager  question  broke 

From  keenly  suffering  breasts  of  yore ! 

But  from  the  grave  no  answer  woke, 
No  answer  from  air,  sea,  or  shore, 
Save  a  dull  murmur  —  never  more  ! 

Yet  would  the  heart  in  vain  protest, 
Rebel  against  th'  apparent  doom ; 

While  o'er  it  swept,  in  wild  unrest. 
In  fire  and  desolating  gloom, 
Surging  billows  that  consume,  — 

That  waste  the  soul  with  fiery  strife  ; 

Till,  choked  with  ashes  and  decay, 
lAke  some  sad,  ruined  altary  Life, 

Lonely,  forsaken,  worthless,  lay, 

In  dreary  desolation  lay. 


IF  A  MAN  DIE,  SHALL  HE  LIVE  AGAIN  ?        151 

But  on  this  altar,  bleak  and  bare, 

A  spark  (which  daily  brighter  grows) 

Came  down,  in  Judah's  hallowed  air ! 
Again  with  light  the  altar  glows, 
Upward  a  new-lit  hope  arose. 

From  Heaven  it  came,  to  Heaven  aspires ! 

And  Heaven  invites  the  yearning  soul ; 
Shows  the  Lost  One  of  its  desires, 

Once  hid  in  dust,  in  Christ  made  whole, 

Has  reached  a  high,  immortal  goal. 

And  with  a  soft,  persuasive  voice. 

Lips,  that  seemed  once  forever  sealed, 

Bid  him  in  Christian  hopes  rejoice ; 
And,  in  the  truths  by  God  revealed, 
Find  the  tried  heart's  effectual  shield. 

Oh !  when  the  precious  treasured  ones, 
Are  taken  from  our  arms  by  Death  — 

Our  own,  our  daughters  and  our  sons ! 
They  who  were  ours,  with  loving  breath ; 
Are  taken  from  our  arms  by  Death  — 

By  Death,  the  cruel  and  the  stern, 
Li  his  drear,  ghastly  haunts  to  dwell ! 

How  do  we  to  our  homes  return  ? 
As  goaded  prisoners  to  a  cell ! 
A  stony,  empty,  dreadful  celL 


152 


THE   CHRISTIAN}  S    GIFT. 


How  can  we  live,  and  meekly  bear 
To  see  from  earth,  all  brightness  fade  ? 

To  Heaven  we  must  address  our  prayer ! 
We  must  have  more  than  mortal  aid  — 
Oh,  vain  and  helpless  mortal  aid ! 

The  soul  beseeches  more  than  this ! 
Uplifts  impassioned  tones  on  high  — 

Which,  reaching  One  who  dwelt  in  bliss, 
Brought  him,  responsive  to  that  cry, 
On  earth  to  suffer  and  to  die. 


To  die,  to  prove  that  Death  is  Life ! 
And  thus  from  Heaven  to  win  a  ray ; 

Which  shining  on  this  scene  of  strife 
Reveals  the  path  to  upper  day. 
Reveals  the  Life,  the  Truth,  the  Way. 

O  Thou !  who  art  the  living  road. 
In  whom  incarnate  Truth  we  see,  — 

A  perfect  Man,  a  perfect  God  — 
In  Griefs  despair  we  come  to  Thee ! 
To  Thee,  dear  Christ !  we  come  to  Thee, 

E.  W.  Clark. 


East  Boston. 


FAREWELL    OF   THE   SOUL   TO    THE   BODY.  153 


FAREWELL   OF   THE   SOUL  TO  THE  BODY. 

BY  MRS.   SIGOURNEY. 

Companion  dear,  the  hour  draws  nigh, 

The  sentence  speeds  —  to  die^  to  die. 

So  long  in  mystic  union  held, 

So  close  with  strong  embrace  compelled, 

How  canst  thou  bear  the  dread  decree 

That  strikes  thy  clasping  nerves  from  me  ? 

To  Him  who  on  this  mortal  shore. 

The  same  encircling  vestment  wore, 

To  him  I  look,  to  him  I  bend, 

To  him  thy  shuddering  frame  commend. 

If  I  have  ever  caused  thee  pain. 

The  throbbing  breast,  the  burning  brain. 

With  cares  and  vigils  turned  thee  pale, 

And  scorned  thee  when  thy  strength  did  fail. 

Forgive,  forgive !  thy  task  doth  cease. 

Friend !  lover !  let  us  part  in  peace. 

That  thou  didst  sometimes  check  my  force. 

Or,  trifling,  stay  mine  upward  course. 

Or  lure  from  heaven  my  wavering  trust. 

Or  bow  my  drooping  wing  to  dust, 

I  blame  thee  not;  the  strife  is  done ; 

I  knew  thou  wert  the  weaker  one. 

The  vase  of  earth,  the  trembling  clod 

Constrained  to  hold  the  breath  of  God. 


154  THE  christian's  gift. 

Well  hast  thou  in  my  service  wrought ; 

Thy  brow  hath  mirrored  forth  my  thought ; 

To  wear  my  smile  thy  life  hath  glowed, 

Thy  tear  to  speak  my  sorrows,  flowed ; 

Thine  ear  hath  borne  me  rich  supplies 

Of  sweetly-varied  melodies ; 

Thy  hands  my  prompted  deeds  have  done, 

Thy  feet  upon  my  errands  run. 

Yes,  thou  hast  marked  my  bidding  well. 

Faithful  and  true !  farewell,  farewell. 

Go  to  thy  rest.     A  quiet  bed 

Meek  mother  Earth  with  flowers  shall  spread, 

"Where  I  no  more  thy  sleep  may  break 

With  fevered  dream,  nor  rudely  wake 

Thy  wearied  eye. 

O,  quit  thy  hold, 
For  thou  art  faint,  and  chill,  and  cold, 
And  long  thy  gasp  and  groan  of  pain 
Have  bound  me  pitying  in  thy  chain, 
Though  angels  urge  me  hence  to  soar. 
Where  I  shall  share  thine  ills  no  more. 
Yet  we  shall  meet.     To  soothe  thy  pain 
Remember,  we  shall  meet  again. 
Quell  with  this  hope  the  victor's  sting, 
And  keep  it  as  a  signet  ring. 
When  the  dire  worm  shall  pierce  thy  breast, 
And  nought  but  ashes  mark  thy  rest ; 
When  stars  shall  fall,  and  skies  grow  dark, 
And  proud  suns  quench  their  glowworm  spark, 


155 


Keep  thou  that  hope,  to  light  thy  gloom, 
Till  the  last  trumpet  rends  the  tomb. 
Then  shalt  thou  glorious  rise,  and  fair, 
Nor  spot,  nor  stain,  nor  wrinkle  bear, 
And  I,  with  hovering  wing  elate. 
The  bursting  of  thy  bonds  shall  wait, 
And  breathe  the  welcome  of  the  sky  — 
"  No  more  to  part,  no  more  to  die, 
Co-heir  to  immortality.** 


GOD'S-ACRE. 


BY  HENRY  W.  LONGFELLOW. 


I  LIKE  the  ancient  Saxon  phrase,  which  calls 
The  burial-ground  God's  Acre !     It  is  just ; 

It  consecrates  each  grave  within  its  walls, 

And  breathes  a  benison  o'er  the  sleeping  dust. 

God's  Acre !     Yes,  that  blessed  name  imparts 
Comfort  to  those,  who  in  the  grave  have  sown 

The  seed  that  they  had  garnered  in  the  hearts. 
Their  bread  of  life,  alas !  no  more  their  own. 

Into  its  furrows  shall  we  all  be  cast. 

In  the  sure  faith  that  we  shall  rise  again 


156 


THE    CHRISTIAN  S    GIFT. 


At  the  great  harvest,  when  th'  archangel's  blast 
Shall  winnow,  like  a  fan,  the  '^haff  and  grain  — 

Then  shall  the  good  stand  in  immortal  bloom 
In  the  fair  garden  of  that  second  birth ; 

And  each  bright  blossom  mingle  its  perfume 

With  that  of  flowers,  which  never  bloomed  on  earth. 


With  thy  rude  ploughshare,  Death,  turn  up  the  sod, 
And  spread  the  furrow  for  the  seed  we  sow ; 

This  is  the  field  and  acre  of  our  God  — 

This  is  the  place  where  human  harvests  grow. 


VIII. 

THE   SPIRITUAL   GOOD  OF  THANKFUL- 
NESS. 

BY  REV.   HENRY  M.   DEXTER. 


That  it  is  a  graceful  and  grateful  thing  to  ren- 
der thanks  for  benefits  received,  lies  upon  the 
face  of  the  subject.  To  state  it,  is  to  prove  it. 
But  when  the  Bible  says,  "  It  is  a  good  thing  to^ 
give  thanks  unto  the  Lord,"  it  seems  to  go  further, 
and  declare  that  there  is  moral  goodness  in. 
thankfulness  to  God.  Many  Scriptures  invite  us 
to  consider  the  beneficial  relations  of  such  thank- 
fulness to  our  spiritual  life. 

Thankfulness  (literally,  "  of  thanks-arfulness  " ) 
is  the  outward  expression  of  an  inward  feeling, 
which  takes  the  name  of  gratitude,  and  which  it 
is  difficult  to  define  in  any  other  way  than  by 
describing  it,  to  say  that  it  is  the  feehng  which- 

14  (157) 


158  THE  christian's  gift. 

naturally  springs  up  within  us  toward  one  who 
has  treated  us  kindly.  It  is  an  agreeable  com- 
pound of  an  emotion  and  a  desire ;  an  emotion 

« 
of  good-will  towards  the  benefactor,  and  a  desire 

to  make  some  return  for  his  benefaction,  or,  where 
that  is  not  possible,  to  do  something  to  make  him 
prosperous  and  happy. 

Giving  thanks  is  gratitude  energized  and  ex- 
pressed in  speech  and  action,  implying  a  reverent 
apprehension  of  the  vast  number  and  infinite 
worth  of  God's  bestowments ;  faithful  reflection 
upon  them ;  a  hearty  emotion  of  pleasure  in 
them,  as  being  God's  gifts,  as  well  as  being  intrin- 
sically of  value  to  ourselves ;  a  cordial  desire  to 
make  some  return  to  God  for  them,  and  a  con- 
stant endeavor,  since  we  cannot  make  any  wor- 
thy direct  return,  to  do  something  to  please  God 
with  our  bodies  and  spirits  which  are  his. 

Thankfulness,  then,  —  using  the  word,  as  we 
shall  do,  to  convey  both  the  inward  emotion  and 
desire,  and  their  outward  expression  in  thoughts, 
and  speech,  and  life,  - —  is,  obviously,  one  of  the 
most  comprehensive  of  Christian  duties.  As  the 
key-stone  of  an  arch  involves  each  subordinate 
granite  block  in  the  curve  on  either  side,  and  the 


SPIRITUAL    GOOD    OF   THANKFULNESS.  159 

deep  foundations  on  which  the  whole  structure 
stands  which  it  completes,  so  thankfulness,  which, 
in  some  respects,  we  may  rightly  name  the  key- 
stone, completing  the  fair  and  full  roundness  of 
symmetric  and  consistent  Christian  character,  in- 
volves attention,  and  appreciation,  and  regenerar 
tion,  and  sanctification.  It  cannot  really  and 
rightly  he  itself,  without  including  them,  at  least 
to  some  extent. 

This  leads  us  to  name  as  the  first  point  in  expo- 
sition of  the  topic  before  us,  the  fact  that  true 
thankfulness  cannot  exist  but  by  the  existence  of 
Christian  character. 

This  is  true  with  regard  to  the  subjective  feel- 
ing of  gratitude.  If  a  chemist  were  to  pour  sul- 
phuric acid  upon  limestone,  and  no  eflPervescence 
should  follow,  he  would  at  once  distrust  the 
strength  of  the  acid,  or  the  purity  of  the  lime- 
stone. No  reasoning  could  force  him  from  the 
conviction  that  something  wrong  has  vitiated  his 
experiment,  because  he  knows  it  to  be  a  law  of 
nature,  that  the  action  of  that  acid  upon  that  min- 
eral shall  profusely  disengage  and  throw  off,  car- 
bonic acid  gas.  So  it  is  a  law  of  grace,  that  the 
descent   of    blessing    upon   a   human   soul   shall 


160  yHE  cheistian's  gift. 

awaken  gratitude.  If  such  a  result  does  not  fol- 
low, we  have  no  resource  but  to  question  the 
goodness  of  something  involved.  The  blessing 
has  descended  from  the  hand  of  God ;  there  is  no 
doubt  of  that,  for  his  mercies  are  new  every 
morning  and  fresh  every  evening.  The  fault  is 
not  there.  The  law  is  inevitable  and  cannot  fail. 
The  fault  must  be  in  the  heart  itself  If  it  does 
not,  so  to  speak,  give  off  gratitude,  when  touched 
by  benefits,  it  is  because  it  works  untruly ;  be- 
cause it  is  blind  to  God's  beauty,  deaf  to  his  voice 
of  kindness,  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins. 

The  absence  of  the  feeling  of  gratitude,  then, 
in  any  heart,  —  since  there  is  no  heart  that  is  not 
every  moment  receiving  benefactions  from  God 
which  ought  to  awaken  responsive  emotion, — 
furnishes  just  the  same  proof  that  the  character 
is  not  spiritually  alive,  which  the  absence  of  foli- 
age and  flowers  and  fruit  from  the  boughs  of  a 
tree,  exposed  to  the  most  genial  and  healthful 
influences  of  spring-time  and  summer,  furnishes 
that  it  is  dead.  Gratitude  is  the  flower  that,  with 
wondrous  beauty  and  alluring  fragrance,  crowns 
the  perfected  stalk  of  Christian  nature. 

And  if  we  turn  from  the  feeling  of  gratitude  to 


SPIRITUAL   GOOD    OF   THANKFULNESS.  161 

the  grateful  activities  which  its  presence  prompts, 
we  get  a  still  clearer  proof  that  it  is  a  grace  so 
Christian,  that  no  real  Christian  can  be  without  it. 
It  is  the  great  duty  of  regenerate  men  to  regen- 
erate their  fellows, —  to  preach  the  gospel  to  every 
creature,  —  to  sleep  not  as  do  others,  but  to  be 
instant  in  season  and  out  of  season  in  every  good 
work.  These  are  the  identical  labors  which  true 
thankfulness  involves,  for  if  we  are  truly  thankful 
to  God  for  his  bestowments,  we  shall  long  to  make 
some  return  for  them ;  and  since  no  direct  re- 
turn is  in  our  power,  we  shall  desire  to  do  some- 
thing to  please  Him.  But  these  daily  duties,  this 
manifoldness  of  pious  activity  which  is  concentra- 
ted in  that  one  command,  to  preach  His  gospel 
to  every  creature,  is  just  what  we  must  do  to 
please  God,  and  manifest  our  thankfulness.  So 
that  the  conclusion  returns  upon  us  with  even 
more  force  from  the  absence  of  the  objective 
labors  which  gratitude  must  prompt,  than  from 
the  absence  of  the  inward  feeling  itself,  that  the 
man  who  is  not  grateful  is  not  a  Christian.  It  is, 
therefore,  a  good  thing  to  give  thanks  unto  the 
Lord,  for  the  reason  that  he  who  gives  them  not, 
is  not  a  good  man. 

14* 


162  THE  christian's  gift. 

It  is  a  good  thing  to  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord, 
because  it  is,  in  itself,  a  pleasant  duty.  "  Praise 
ye  the  Lord,"  says  David,  "  for  the  Lord  is  good : 
sing  praises  unto  his  name,  for  it  is  pleasant."  We 
know  that  some  religious  duties  are,  in  their  very 
nature,  such  as  to  involve  self-denial  and  suffering, 
yet  in  the  end  even  they  are  pleasant.  The  con- 
sciousness of  duty  faithfully  performed,  at  the 
expense  of  whatever  self-crucifixion,  is  one  of 
the  richest  and  most  heavenlike  of  mortal  expe- 
riences. But  because  some  duties  are  bitter  before 
they  are  sweet,  it  does  not  follow  that  bitterness 
is  a  necessary  ingredient  of  righteousness.  It  is 
sometimes  true  that  to  fall  in  with  the  predilec- 
tions of  the  heart,  and  to  float  calmly  down  the 
natural  current  of  the  soul,  is  to  please  God  and 
keep  his  commandments.  The  duty  of  thankful- 
ness, is  none  the  less  a  duty  because  it  falls  in 
with  the  impulse  of  the  pious  nature.  Said  Isaac 
Barrows :  "  Other  duties  of  devotion  have  some- 
thing laborious  in  them,  something  disgustful  to 
our  sense.  Prayer  reminds  us  of  our  wants  and 
imperfections ;  confession  induces  a  sad  remem- 
brance of  our  misdeeds  and  bad  deserts:  but 
thanksgiving  includes  nothing  uneasy  or  unpleas- 


SPIRITUAL   GOOD    OF   THANKFULNESS.  163 

ant;  nothing  but  the  memory  and  sense  of  ex- 
ceeding goodness."  When  we  give  ourselves  up 
to  its  influence  we  may  delight  ourselves  in  the 
Lord,  rejoicing  in  God,  revelling  in  the  blessed 
memories  of  his  love,  and  eagerly  asking,  —  "  Lord, 
whither  shall  my  willing  feet  run  in  the  way  of 
thy  commandments,  —  what  may  I  do  for  thee  to 
relieve  my  joy-burdened  spirit  ?  " 

Again  it  is  a  good  thing  to  give  thanks  unto 
the  Lord,  because  it  is  a  comely  duty.  "Praise 
ye  the  Lord,"  again  says  David,  "for  it  is  good 
to  sing  praises  unto  our  God;  for  it  is  pleas- 
ant, and  praise  is  comely T  It  is  of  some  conse- 
quence to  have  religion  comely  before  the  world. 
The  impression  produced  upon  the  community  by 
the  sight  of  grateful  and  gratefully  active  Chris- 
tians, is  salutary.  Everybody  knows  that  such 
ought  to  be  their  character.  And  when  any 
professed  follower  of  God  goes  about  the  streets 
with  a  gloomy,  sullen  aspect,  as  if  he  never  had 
been  anointed  with  the  oil  of  gladness  above  his 
fellows,  —  as  if  the  poison  of  asps  w^ere  under  his 
lips,  and  his  mouth  full  of  bitterness,  and  destruc- 
tion and  misery  were  in  his  path,  and  the  way  of 
peace  were  to  him  unknown,  it  is  too  plain  that  he 


164  THE  christian's  gift. 

is  gone  out  of  the  way  and  become  unprofitable, 
that  he  doeth  no  good  —  no,  not  any.  Men  may 
differ  in  calling  him  under-righteous  or  over-right- 
eous, but  they  will  unanimously  despise  him  1 

Sunshine  is  the  great  fertilizer  of  the  natural 
world.  Cold  twilight,  pale  moonlight,  dusk  cloud- 
light,  do  not  draw  out  the  grass-blades  and  open 
the  violet  buds,  and  freshen  and  perfume  the 
fields  and  glens  and  mountain  slopes.  These  wait 
for  warm  sunshine.  Its  fervid  embrace  revives 
all  nature  and  renews  the  face  of  the  earth.  And 
it  is  the  genial  sunshine  of  the  gospel,  —  warmly 
raying  out  from  the  daily,  grateful,  affectionate, 
winsome,  useful  activities  of  the  people  of  God, 
which  must  renew  the  face  of  the  moral  world. 
A  grateful  church  will  be  the  church  of  the  mil- 
lennium, feeling  acutely  the  merciful  kindness 
which  has  rescued  it  from  the  pit  of  destruction, 
and  established  its  goings  upon  the  rock, Christ 
Jesus,  and  earnest  to  prove  its  love  for  the  Saviour 
by  making  him  known  to  every  man  for  whom  he 
died,  that  he  may  see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul 
and  be  satisfied. 

"Honor  the  Lord  with  thy  substance,"  is  the 
divine  precept.     "Ye  are  bought  with  a  price," 


SPIRITUAL   GOOD    OF   THANKFULNESS.  165 

says  Paul,  "therefore  glorify  God  in  your  body 
and  in  your  spirit  which  are  God's."  There  are 
many  such  commands,  all  going  to  show  that  God 
demands,  and  is  well  pleased  with  the  grateful 
service  of  his  people ;  that  it  is  his  will  for  them 
to  recommend  the  rehgion  they  profess  not  only 
by  quiet  and  peaceable  lives  in  all  godliness  and 
honesty,  but  by  seeking  to  do  good  and  commu- 
nicate; to  open  wide  their  hearts  toward  the 
needy  race,  and  be  to  its  wretchedness  and  sin  — 
for  Christ's  sake  —  in  the  place  of  Christ. 

The  farmer  does  not  take  his  guest  to  see  his 
unthankful  orchard,  that  has  no  apples  on  its 
boughs,  nor  to  look  on  his  lean  kine,  that  do  no 
credit  to  his  liberal  bestowments  of  food,  —  but 
he  takes  him  to  the  grateful,  fertile  field,  where 
every  ounce  of  enrichment  has  been  returned  a 
hundred-fold  in  the  bending,  burdened  crop ;  this 
is  the  farming  which  pleases  him  and  which  is 
comely  to  look  upon. 

And  our  Lord  taketh  pleasure  in  large  returns : 
he  loveth  a  cheerful  giver ;  —  he  will  rebuke  that 
evil  servant  who  has  been  content  to  bury  his 
talent  in  his  own  selfishness,  though  intending  an 
exact  return  of  what  was  given ;  —  while  he  will 


166  THE   CHRISTLA^'S   GIFT. 

enrich  with  his  heavenly  welcome  and  eternal 
benediction,  those  who  have  been  busy  and  gained 
other  ^\e,  or  ten,  over  what  was  received  from 
him. 

This  leads  us  directly  on  to  say,  It  is  a  good 
thing  to  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord ;  because 
thankfulness  must  furnish  the  strongest  motive 
power  for  the  performance  of  all  that  Christian 
duty  and  labor,  which  will  convert  the  world. 

Missionaries  are  thankful  men.  Mary  Van  Len- 
nep  wrote  in  her  journal  on  the  last  Thanksgiving 
day  which  she  ever  spent  in  this  country,  these 
words :  "  I  have  been  thinking  all  the  morning  of 
the  innumerable  mercies  which  crown  my  life. 
And  now,  in  view  of  all  my  blessings,  I  come,  and 
with  grateful  heart  commit  all  my  ways  unto  the 
Lord,  fully  persuaded  that  he  will  do  all  things 
rightly  with  regard  to  the  future."  And  at  New 
Year's  she  wrote  :  —  "I  am  come  nearer  Christ,  and 
feel  his  dying  love  more,  and  the  preciousness  of 
redemption.  I  thank  God  that  it  seems  delightful 
to  be  engaged  for  Christ,  and  working  in  his  vine- 
yard wherever  he  appoints."  It  is  just  this  grate- 
ful love  for  Christ,  —  this  yearning  to  please  him, 
and  have  his  cause  prosper  because  he  is  so  lovely, 


SPIRITUAL   GOOD    OF   THANKFULNESS.  167 

and  has  done  so  much  for  us,  —  that  has  sown  the 
islands  of  the  sea  with  gospel  teachers,  and  has 
scattered  the  Bible  and  the  tract  in  all  strange 
languages  through  all  strange  lands. 

A  selfish,  narrow-minded,  icy-hearted  Christian 

—  if  such  an  anomaly  may  exist  —  will  never  be 
a  missionary,  home  or  foreign.  The  ends  of  the 
earth  may  wait  indefinitely  to  see  the  salvation 
of  God,  before  he  wUl  trouble  himself  about  them. 
The  best  locomotive  that  the  most  skilful  machin- 
ist on  earth  can  build,  is  nothing  but  a  curious 
heap  of  cold  brass  and  iron,  until,  by  the  antag- 
onism of  fire  and  water  in  its  furnace  and  boiler, 
steam  crowds  its  inward  recesses,  hisses  at  its 
safety-valves,  roars  impatient  at  the  doors  of  its 
cylinders,  shrieks  at  its  whistle,  and,  like  a  demo- 
niac spirit  in  prison,  raves  everywhere  for  release. 
And  so  the  infinitely  perfect  machinery  of  grace, 

—  which,  by  the  foolishness  of  preaching,  by 
churches,  and  Sabbath  schools,  and  benevolent 
associations,  and  missions,  home  and  foreign,  and 
public  enterprise,  and  private  labor,  and  continual 
prayer,  —  all  directed  by  sanctified  intelligence, 
and  overshadowed  with  heavenly  influence,  will 
by  and  by  transform  the  desolate  earth  into  more 


168  THE  christian's  gift. 

than  the  Eden  it  has  lost,  —  is  powerless,  except 
as  it  gets  power  from  human  affection  and  human 
volition.  As  the  production  of  steam  depends 
upon  the  proper  expansive  working  of  each  in- 
finitesimal globule  of  water  when  acted  on  by  heat, 
in  such  a  manner  that  the  process  would  fail  and 
the  engine  remain  powerless  without  those  glob- 
ules were  unanimous  in  their  adherence  to  na- 
ture's law ;  so  the  power  of  the  enginery  of  the 
gospel  rests,  in  the  last  analysis,  upon  the  indi- 
vidual faithfulness  of  individual  saints.  Humanly 
speaking,  it  has  no  power  of  its  own,  —  all  is 
aggregated  from  them,  and  every  failure  of  any 
of  them  to  act  in  consistence  with  the  divine 
plan,  robs  the  church  of  a  moiety  of  her  efficiency, 
and  the  world  of  a  portion  of  its  blessing. 

Now,  a .  moment's  thought  will  make  it  clear 
that  the  feeling  of  thankfulness  to  God  in  individ- 
ual Christian  hearts,  leading  to  the  strong  desire 
to  please  him  and  to  have  his  will  done  on  earth 
as  it  is  in  heaven,  is  the  great  energizing,  power- 
giving  principle,  on  which  the  church  must  rest  in 
all  her  efforts,  —  for  which  the  millennium  waits. 
What  can  supply  its  place  ?  The  romance  of  re- 
ligion may  get  on  well  a  little  while,  in  the  poetry 


SPIKITUAL   GOOD    OF   THANKFULNESS.  169 

of  the  effort,  but  it  breaks  down  upon  the  prose, 
and  retires  disgusted  from  the  solid  hard  work, 
which  religion  has  to  do  among  the  degraded  and 
repulsive  elements  of  the  lowest  stratum  of  soci- 
ety. Christian  principle,  made  active  and  kept 
unfaltering  by  the  calm  enthusiasm  of  thankful 
affection  to  God  and  Christ,  is  the  only  reliable 
energy  for  the  constant  prosecution  of  the  Ke- 
deemer's  work  on  earth. 

"  In  duties  and  in  sufferings  too, 
Thy  path,  my  Lord,  I'd  trace ; 
As  thou  hast  done  —  so  would  I  do, 
Depending  on  thy  grace." 

Read  what  John  Howard  wrote  just  at  the  out- 
set of  his  noble  career  of  self-denial  and  suffering. 
"  0  magnify  the  Lord,  my  soul  and  my  spirit,  re- 
joice in  God  my  Saviour !  His  free  grace,  un- 
bounded mercy,  love  unparalleled,  goodness  un- 
limited. And  oh !  this  mercy,  this  love,  this  good- 
ness, exerted  for  me!  Lord  God,  why  me?  My 
soul,  walk  then  with  God;  be  faithful,  hold  on, 
hold  out,  and  then  —  what  words  can  utter ! " 

Is  it  strange,  under  the  power  of  such  thank- 
fulness, to  see  him  expending  his  life  upon  the 

15  . 


170  THE    christian's    GIFT. 

outcasts  of  society,  —  going  down  into  the  lowest 
depths  of  all  wretchedness,  ransacking  the  most 
fetid  and  fevered  dungeons,  exploring  the  most 
loathsome  lazarettos,  rousing  society  to  the  hor- 
rors it  had  slumbered  over  for  ages,  and  bringing 
the  mild  light  of  the  love  of  Jesus  to  shine 
through  all  grated  windows,  into  all  desolate  dun- 
geons ?  Is  it  not  natural  to  read  that  he  died  in 
a  strange  land,  infected  with  a  fatal  malady  while 
on  a  mission  of  mercy,  and  that  calmly  lying  down 
and  composing  his  limbs  to  their  long  repose,  he 
should  meekly  say,  —  while  Europe  was  even  then 
jubilant  with  his  praises,  — "  Come,  blessed  Lord 
Jesus!  It  is  well,  lay  me  quietly  in  the  earth,  place 
a  sundial  over  my  grave,  and  let  me  be  forgotten." 
No,  no,  it  is  not  famine  for  fame  that  vitalizes 
such  lives  as  his;  it  is  the  thankful  memory  of 
Jesus,  and  the  eager  desire  to  have  his  will  done 
on  earth  as  it  is  done  in  heaven. 

Once  more,  —  it  is  a  good  thing  to  give  thanks 
unto  the  Lord,  because  such  thankfulness  breathes 
the  very  spirit  of  heaven.  Could  we  catch  the 
syllables  of  those  songs  which  they  are  singing 
there  as  we  are  toiling  here,  we  should  find  that 
their  melody  is  that  of  praise.     They  cast  their 


SPIRITUAL   GOOD    OF   THANKFULNESS.  171 

crowns  at  the  feet  of  Him  whose  side  bears  still 
the  scar  of  that  cruel  spear,  —  in  whose  hands 
abide  the  prints  of  the  nails,  —  and,  with  a  tumult 
of  great  joy,  they  ascribe  blessing  and  glory  and 
honor  and  power  unto  him  who  loved  us,  and 
gave  himself  for  us.  They  do  not  praise  them- 
selves, though  men  remember  them  with  pro- 
foundest  veneration.  They  do  not  praise  each 
other  —  though 

"  There  be  the  goodly  fellowship  of  saints, 

The  prophets  taught  of  old, 
The  blessed  twelve  apostles  there, 

The  leaders  of  Christ's  fold. 
The  martyrs*  noble  army  there 

In  glorious  array, 
The  holy  virgins  in  white  robes. 

All  fairer  than  the  day." 

No !  They  praise  Christ !  Christ  is  the  great 
thought  of  heaven !  Heaven  is  heaven,  because 
it  is  being  with  Christ.  Thankfulness  to  him  is 
the  burden  of  every  chant.  It  floats  in  all  that 
celestial  atmosphere.  Selfishness  is  without,  with 
dogs  and  sorcerers,  and  whatever  is  unclean. 

When  we  are  most  thankful,  then  we  come 
most  nearly  into   communion  with  heaven.     It 


172  THE   CHEISTIAN's    GIFT. 

is  good  to  be  thankful  unto  God.  It  is  good  in 
itself,  and  in  all  that  it  begets.  Alas,  that  we 
know  so  little  of  its  quality  by  daily  experience ! 
At  least,  let  us  heartily  say,  with  dear  old  George 
Herbert :  — 

"  Wherefore  I  cry,  and  cry  again ; 
And  in  no  quiet  can  I  be, 
Till  I  a  thankful  heart  obtain  of  thee. 
Not  thankful  when  it  pleas  eth  me, 
As  if  thy  blessings  had  spare  days. 
But  such  a  heart  whose  pulse  may  be  Thy  praise  !  ** 


HYMN    OF   PRAISE. 

BY  MILMAN. 

Sing  to  the  Lord ;  let  harp  aiMi  lute  and  voice. 
Up  to  the  expanding  gates  of  heaven  rejoice, 

"While  the  bright  martyrs  to  their  rest  are  borne ; 
Sing  to  the  Lord !  their  blood-stained  course  is  run, 
And  every  head  its  diadem  hath  won. 

Rich  as  the  purple*  of  the  coming  morn  ; 
Sing  the  triumphant  champions  of  their  God, 
While  bum  their  mounting  feet  along  their  skyward  road. 

Sing  to  the  Lord  !  it  is  not  shed  in  vain. 

The  blood  of  martyrs !  from  its  freshening  rain 

High  springs  the  church,  like  some  fount-shadowing  palm ; 


HYMN    OF   PRAISE.  173 

The  nations  crowd  beneath  its  branching  shade, 
Of  its  green  leaves  are  kingly  diadems  made, 

And  wrapt  within  its  deep  imbosoming  calm, 
Earth  sinks  to  slumber  like  the  breezeless  deep. 
And  war's  tempestuous  vultures  fold  their  wings  and  sleep. 

Sing  to  the  Lord  !  no  more  the  angels  fly 
Far  in  the  bosom  of  the  stainless  sky 

The  sound  of  fierce  licentious  sacrifice. 
From  shrined  alcove,  and  stately  pedestal. 
The  marble  gods  in  cumbrous  ruin  fall. 

Headless  in  dust  the  awe  of  nations  lies ; 
Jove's  thunder  crumbles  in  his  mouldering  hand,  • 

And  mute  as  sepulchres  the  hymnless  temples  stand. 

Sing  to  the  Lord !  from  damp  prophetic  cave, 
No  more  the  loose-haired  sybils  burst  and  rave, 

Nor  the  pale  augurs  watch  the  wandering  bird ; 
No  more  on  hill  or  in  the  murky  wood, 
Mid  frantic  shout  and  dissonant  music  rude, 

In  human  tones  are  wailing  victims  heard ; 
Nor  fathers  by  the  reeking  altar-stone. 
Count  their  dark  beads  t'  escape  their  children's  dying  groan. 

Sing  to  the  Lord  !  no  more  the  dead  are  laid 

In  cold  despair  beneath  the  cypress  shade, ,  ) 

To  sleep  the  eternal  sleep  that  knows  no  mom  ; 
There,  eager  still  to  burst  death's  brazen  bands, 
The  angel  of  the  resurrection  stands, 

While  on  its  own  immortal  pinions  borne, 

15* 


174 


Following  the  breaker  of  the  imprisoning  tomb, 

Forth  springs  the  exulting  soul,  and  shakes  away  its  gloom. 

Sing  to  the  Lord !  the  desert  rocks  break  out, 
And  the  thronged  cities,  in  one  gladdening  shout, 

The  furthest  shores  by  pilgrim  step  explored  ; 
Spread  all  your  wings,  ye  winds,  and  waft  around, 
Even  to  the  starry  cope's  pale  waning  bound, 

Earth's  universe  homage  to  the  Lord ; 
Lift  up  thy  head,  imperial  Capitol, 
Proud  on  thy  height,  to  see  the  bannered  cross  unroll. 

Sing  to  the  Lord  !  when  time  itself  shall  cease, 
And  final  ruin's  desolating  peace 

Enwrap  this  wide  and  restless  world  of  man ; 
When  the  Judge  rides  upon  the  enthroning  wind. 
And  o'er  all  generations  of  mankind 

Eternal  justice  waves  its  winnowing  fan; 
To  vast  infinity's  remotest  space, 
While  ages  run  their  everlasting  race. 
Shall  all  the  beatific  hosts  prolong. 
Wide  as  the  glory  of  the  Lamb,  the  Lamb's  triumphant  song. 


PEAISE  FOR  AFFLICTIONS.  175 


PRAISE    FOR   AFFLICTIONS. 

BT  CABOLINS  FBY. 

Foe  what  shall  I  praise  thee,  my  God  and  my  King  ? 
For  what  blessings  the  tribute  of  gratitude  bring  ? 
Shall  I  praise  thee  for  pleasure,  for  health,  or  for  ease  ? 
For  the  spring  of  delight,  and  the  sunshine  of  peace  ? 

Shall  I  praise  thee  for  flowers  that  bloom  on  my  breast  ? 
For  joys  in  prospective,  and  pleasures  possessed  ? 
For  the  spirits  that  brightened  my  days  of  delight, 
And  the  slumbers  that  sat  on  my  pillow  by  night  ? 

For  this  should  I  praise  thee ;  but  if  only  for  this 
I  should  leave  half  untold  the  donation  of  bliss : 
I  thank  thee  for  sickness,  for  sorrow,  for  care. 

For  the  thorns  I  have  gathered,  the  anguish  I  bear ;  — 

• 

For  nights  of  anxiety,  watchings,  and  tears, 

A  present  of  pain,  a  prospective  of  fears : 

I  praise  thee,  I  bless  thee,  my  King  and  my  God, 

For  the  good  and  the  evil  thy  hand  hath  bestowed. 

The  flowers  more  sweet,  but  their  fragrance  is  flown ; 
They  yielded  no  fruit ;  they  are  withered  and  gone : 
The  thorn  it  was  poignant,  but  precious  to  me ; 
*T  was  the  message  of  mercy  —  it  led  me  to  thee. 


176  THE  christian's  gift. 


REJOICING   IN   HEAVEN. 

BY  MART  HOWITT. 

O  Spirit,  freed  from  bondage 
Rejoice,  thy  work  is  done  ! 

The  weary  world  is  'neath  thy  feet, 
Thou  brighter  than  the  sun  ! 

Awake,  and  breathe  the  living  air 

Of  our  celestial  clime ! 
Awake  to  love  that  knows  no  change, 

Thou  who  hast  done  with  time ! 

Awake  !  lift  up  thy  joyful  eyes,  — 
See  all  heaven's  host  appears  ; 

And  be  thou  glad  exceedingly, 
Thou  who  hast  done  with  tears ! 

Awake,  ascend  !  thou  art  not  now 
With  those  of  mortal  birth ; 

The  living  God  hath  touched  thy  lips, 
Thou  who  hast  done  with  earth ! 


?T-„f    f,y    W1.UO 


ilfi  irmMixOT. 


IX. 

THE    CRUCIFIXION. 


The  decision  of  the  populace  in  reference  to  the 
final  disposition  of  the  Lord  of  glory  was  con- 
densed in  this  short  utterance,  '^Away  with  him ; 
crucify  him ! "  Nor  was  it  simply  the  verdict  of 
an  excited  and  enraged  mob.  The  utterance  ex- 
pressed the  opinion  and  the  purpose  of  all  classes 
in  Judea,  excepting  one  small,  and  at  that  time, 
insignificant  class.  The  priesthood  had  spoken 
through  Caiaphas,  who,  actuated  by  prejudice  and 
passion  rather  than  by  justice,  had  hastily  con- 
demned the  Messiah  to  death.  The  political  au- 
thorities of  the  nation  were  heard  through  Pilate 
and  Herod,  whom  a  common  act  of  wickedness 
had  made  friends.  The  prejudice,  malice,  and 
scorn  of  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem  found  ex- 
pression in  the  excited  multitude  who  surrounded 

(177) 


178  THE  christian's  gift. 

the  palace  of  Pilate.  The  sanhedrim  could  not 
execute  their  decision,  because  it  was  not  lawful 
for  that  Jewish  council  to  put  any  man  to  death. 
Pilate  did  not  wish  to  execute  it,  for  he  doubtless 
looked  upon  Jesus  as  a  religious  enthusiast,  inno- 
cent, though  imprudent  and  visionary.  Besides, 
he  would  gladly  have  disappointed  and  vexed  the 
Jews,  could  he  have  done  it  with  safety  to  his 
own  person  and  to  the  oJBfice  which  he  held.  But 
the  people,  the  maddened  persecutors,  intoxicated 
with  malice,  contempt,  and  rage,  and  urged  on  by 
the  priesthood,  were  inexorable  in  their  demands. 
To  every  proposition  from  Pilate  they  had  but 
one  reply, ''  Away  with  him,  let  him  be  crucified." 
The  governor  finds  no  fault  in  the  man,  but  what 
is  it  to  the  crowd  whether  he  is  innocent  or  guilty  ? 
What  do  they  care  about  the  processes  of  law,  the 
testimony  of  witnesses,  or  the  just  merits  of  the 
case  ?  It  is  not  in  the  nature  of  prejudice  to  take 
cognizance  of  principles.  Passion  does  not  pause 
to  listen  to  argument.  The  spirit  of  persecution 
recognizes  no  code  of  ethics,  no  laws  of  right,  hu- 
man or  divine. 

Pilate,  in  order  to  appear  to  acknowledge  the 
verdict  of  the  sanhedrim,  and  yet  save  Jesus,  pro- 


THE  CRUCIFIXION.  179 

poses  to  avail  himself  of  the  long-established  cus- 
tom of  releasing  a  prisoner  at  the  time  of  the 
feast.  With  the  hope  that  the  multitude  would 
select  Christ  in  spite  of  their  enmity,  he  brings 
forward  his  name  in  connection  with  that  of  a  no- 
torious murderer,  whose  awful  crimes  had  ren- 
dered him  obnoxious  to  the  whole  community. 
And  we  may  well  suppose  that  the  crowd,  wicked 
and  imreasonable  as  they  were,  would  pause,  and 
recoil  before  such  a  proposition.  We  may  imagine 
their  hesitation,  the  glances  of  one  towards  another, 
the  indications  of  a  disposition  to  consult,  before 
expressing  a  preference.  But  soon  the  scale  is 
turned.  According  to  St.  Matthew,  "The  chief 
priests  and  elders  persuaded  the  multitude  that 
they  should  ask  Barabbas  and  destroy  Jesus." 
These  relentless  persecutors  felt  the  pressure  of 
the  crisis  which  they  had  now  reached.  They 
feared  the  issue  of  the  proposition  presented  to 
the  multitude.  Although  the  people  were  in- 
flamed with  malice  and  passion,  and  bent  upon 
the  destruction  of  their  victim,  yet  the  chief 
priests  and  elders  could  not  trust  them  to  decide 
the  question  presented  to  them.  Barabbas  was  so 
obnoxious,  the  danger  to  be  apprehended  from 


180  THE   christian's    GIFT. 

his  release  was  so  apparent,  the  idea  of  selecting 
a  notorious  criminal  in  preference  to  a  person  in 
whom  no  fault  could  be  found,  was  so  revolting, 
that  the  priests  feared,  lest  even  unprincipled  and 
enraged  fanatics  would  be  influenced  by  a  sense 
of  justice,  or  feelings  of  common  decency.  They 
therefore  resort  to  persuasion,  and  induce  the  mul- 
titude to  ask  for  Barabbas  and  destroy  Jesus. 

Pilate,  however,  unwilling  to  resort  to  extreme 
measures,  ordered  Jesus  to  be  scourged,  hoping 
that  the  sight  of  his  lacerated  body  would  pacify 
the  rage  of  the  multitude.  Bringing  him  before 
them,  bearing  the  marks  of  excessive  cruelty,  and 
with  the  attire  that  the  soldiers  had  put  upon  him 
in  derision,  he  said,  "  Behold  the  man ! "  Just  see 
the  condition,  the  weakness,  the  innocence  of  .the 
person  who  you  say  claims  to  be  king,  whose 
influence  you  so  much  dread.  But  the  sight,  in- 
stead of  allaying  their  fury,  only  inflames  it  the 
more.  With  increased  energy,  with  their  fanatical 
rage  wrought  to  a  still  higher  pitch,  with  the 
voices  of  the  chief  priests  heard  above  the  others, 
they  cry  out.  Crucify  him,  crucify  him !  At  this 
stage  of  the  proceedings  the  priests  themselves 
had  waxed  bold.     Not  content  with  influencing 


THE   CRUCIFIXION.  181 

the  people,  they  cry  out  themselves,  Crucify 
him! 

This  event,  the  crucifixion  of  Christ,  is  the  great 
fact  in  the  world's  history  around  which  all  other 
facts  and  events  revolve,  from  which  they  receive 
their  importance  and  their  force.  It  is  the  radi- 
ating point  of  all  spiritual  light,  the  source  of 
divine  blessings,  the  pledge  of  the  favor  of  heaven. 
It  is  the  centre  of  the  most  conflicting  elements 
and  interests ;  of  rejoicing  and  glory,  of  scorn  and 
of  triumph.  It  reveals  the  depth  of  human  de- 
pravity, and  the  length,  breadth,  and  height  of  the 
divine  compassion.  It  tells  what  human  wicked- 
ness can  do,  and  what  divine  mercy  can  bear. 
Though  a  scene  full  of  darkness  and  horror,  yet  it 
becomes  the  means  of  filling  our  moral  firmament 
with  stars  of  hope,  of  flooding  the  world  with  ce- 
lestial light.  It  adds  to  the  reality  and  solemnity 
of  existence,  increasing  man's  responsibihty  and 
duties,  giving  greater  force  to  his  relations  to  the 
Deity.  While  it  brightens  the  pathway  of  the 
Christian,  it  adds  to  the  darkness  of  the  cloud  of 
divine  wrath  that^overhangs  the  sceptical  and  the 
vicious. 

In  dwelHng  upon  the  crucifixion,  we  propose  to- 
16 


182  THE  christian's  gift. 

consider  the  motives  on  the  part  of  man  which 
prompted  it,  the  wilUngness  of  the  sufferer  to  en- 
dure it,  and  the  plans  of  Jehovah  into  which  it 
enters  as  an  essential  and  controlling  element. 

Those  who  decreed  the  crucifixion  of  Christ 
were  actuated  by  various  motives  and  various 
principles  of  human  nature.  There  were  local 
institutions  and  circumstances  that  influenced 
them,  and  yet  they  acted  in  a  measure  as  the  rep- 
resentatives of  a  large  portion  of  the  human  race. 
That  is,  they  acted  as  wicked  men  in  any  other 
age  of  the  world,  under  circumstances  somewhat 
similar,  would  have  acted.  Bitter  hostility  to  the 
truth,  to  purity,  to  righteousness,  was  no  new  de- 
velopment of  human  depravity.  It  had  existed 
in  every  age  of  the  world,  and  it  has  continued  to 
exist  in  every  period  since  this  conspicuous  mani- 
festation of  it.  The  people  of  that  day  thought 
that  those  upon  whom  the  tower  of  Siloam  fell 
were  sinners  above  all  men  that  dwelt  in  Jerusar 
lem,  and  many  in  our  day  think  that  the  inhabi- 
tants of  Jerusalem  who  decreed  the  death  of 
Christ  were  sinners  above  alU others  who  now 
dwell  in  Christendom.  But  the  ecclesiastical  court 
that  rendered  the  unjust  verdict  against  Christ,  the 


THE   CRUCIFIXION.  183 

mob  who  thirsted  for  his  blood,  the  timeserving, 
worldly-minded,  selfish  rulers  who  consented  to 
his  death,  all  acted  as  the  representatives  of  classes 
in  society  who  are  as  permanent  as  human  wick- 
edness is  permanent.  The  actors  in  this  particu- 
lar case  have  passed  from  the  stage  and  gone  to 
their  reward,  but  their  principles  remain,  and  they 
will  remain  until  the  world  is  christianized,  and 
society  purged  of  corruption  and  hypocrisy.  Be- 
tween tlie  depraved  heart  of  man  and  the  pure 
and  heavenly  truths  which  Christ  taught,  his  stern 
virtue,  uncompromising  integrity,  his  benevolence 
that  required  man  to  love  his  neighbor  as  himself, 
his  requisition  that  demanded  an  entire  consecra- 
tion of  all  our  powers  to  the  service  of  heaven, 
between  these  there  could  be  no  harmony.  In 
their  very  nature  they  are  antagonistic.  Hence 
Christ  had  only  to  develop  his  principles,  and 
simultaneously  the  opposition  of  the  human  heart 
was  developed.  Pride,  selfishness,  malice,  revenge, 
all  combined  in  rebellion  against  this  heavenly 
system  of  truth,  and  gradually  they  reached  the 
point  where  their  intense  and  accumulated  oppo- 
sition found  utterance  in  the  cry.  Let  him  be  cru- 
cified.    Nor  are  we  sure,  that,  in  any  age  of  the 


184  THE  christian's  gift. 

world  since  that  period,  Christ  would  escape  cruci- 
fixion, or  some  other  mode  of  persecution.  It 
would  be  by  no  means  difficult  for  human  wicked- 
ness to  find  a  Judas  to  betray  him,  councils  to  con- 
demn him,  a  mob  to  spit  upon  and  grossly  insult 
him,  and  soldiers  to  execute  him. 

But  this  opposition  and  spirit  of  persecution 
were  greatly  stimulated  by  the  religious  preju- 
dices and  superstitions  of  the  people.  Christ  had 
dealt  with  the  formalism  of  the  Pharisees,  the 
scepticism  of  the  Sadducees,  and  the  infidelity  of 
the  times  with  an  unsparing  hand.  He  had  strip- 
ped off  the  mask  of  hypocrisy,  and  laid  bare  the 
principles  of  the  heart.  He  had  shown  that  the 
religious  customs,  rites,  and  doctrines,  about  which 
the  priests  and  elders  felt  so  much  pride,  were 
only  so  many  whited  sepulchres,  full  of  dead  men's 
bones  and  all  uncleanness.  He  uttered  woes 
against  these  hypocritical  deceivers  of  the  people, 
that  must  have  stung  them  to  the  heart.  He 
kept  back  no  truth  from  fear  of  giving  offence, 
winked  at  no  sin  on  the  ground  of  expediency, 
compromised  with  no  evil  for  the  sake  of  a  tem- 
porary peace.  In  this,  as  in  every  thing  else,  he 
made  thorough  work.     As  a  natural  consequence, 


THE   CRUCIFIXION.  185 

the  formalists,  sceptics,  and  builders  of  wliited 
sepulchres  were  greatly  enraged.  They  had  not 
been  accustomed  to  such  plain  dealing,  or  to  hav- 
ing their  sincerity  or  authority  called  in  question. 
And  to  be  confronted  by  a  despised  Nazarene,  to 
have  it  publicly  charged  home  upon  them,  that 
their  long  prayers  were  a  mere  pretence,  their 
fasts  a  solemn  mockery,  their  proselytes  made 
twofold  more  the  children  of  hell  than  them- 
selves ;  to  be  publicly  told  that  they  were  blind 
guides,  that  they  devoured  widows*  houses,  that 
while  they  paid  tithe  of  mint,  anise,  and  cumin, 
they  omitted  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law, 
judgment,  mercy,  and  faith ;  to  be  denounced  as 
serpents  a  generation  of  vipers ;  to  be  asked 
directly,  how  can  ye  escape  the  damnation  of 
hell, —  all  this  was  too  much  for  these  haughty 
and  self-conceited  formalists.  Their  hostility  to 
the  Messiah  knew  no  bounds.  Long  before  his 
crucifixion  they  would  have  had  him  destroyed, 
had  they  not  feared  the  people.  And  when  he 
was  in  their  power,  they  would  be  satisfied  with 
nothing,  as  we  have  seen,  short  of  his  death.  The 
infamous  wretch,  Barabbas,  was  preferred  to  him. 
In  their  course  we  see  illustrated  the  power  of 
16* 


186  ■  THE  christian's  gift. 

wickedness  combined  with  a  form  or  system  of 
religion.  There  is  probably  no  human  force  for 
evil  more  potent  than  that  which  results  from 
this  combination.  Let  a  man's  wickedness  be  sus- 
tained, and  nourished  by  superstition ;  let  its  grap- 
pling-irons be  fastened  upon  the  conscience;  let 
it  remain  for  a  long  time  undisturbed,  and  receive 
the  sanction  of  a  corrupt  community,  and  it  be- 
comes a  demon  in  will  and  in  strength.  This  union 
furnishes  us  with  the  secret  of  the  Popish  hatred 
of  the  truth,  —  the  spirit  of  persecution  that  has 
prevailed  in  the  Papal  church.  We  wonder  how 
human  beings  could  be  guilty  of  such  atrocious 
cruelties,  such  horrible  barbarities,  as  Eomish 
inquisitions  have  inflicted  upon  their  writhing  vic- 
tims. But  the  force  comes  from  infernal  passions 
united  with  religious  superstitions.  In  the  State, 
no  tyranny  is  to  be  dreaded  like  religious  tyr- 
anny. Of  all  despotisms,  it  is  the  most  inhuman, 
cruel,  and  deadly. 

The  Messiah  knew  human  nature  too  well  to 
expect  any  mercy  from  the  hands  of  his  pharisai- 
cal  persecutors.  Pilate  and  his  associates  were 
humane  and  just,  compared  with  the  high-priest 
Caiaphas,  and  those  associated  with  him. 


THE    CRUCIFIXION.  187 

The  next  point  of  inquiry  is,  the  state  of  the 
Messiah's  mind  during  his  arrest,  trial,  scourging, 
and  crucifixion.  Obviously  had  he  not  been  a 
willing  sufferer,  no  human  or  finite  power  could 
have  forced  him  through  these  trials,  insults,  and 
agonies.  His  own  ability  to  protect  himself,  in 
fact  his  limitless  power  had  been  established  be- 
yond all  question,  by  the  miracles  which  he 
wrought.  He  who  could  still  the  raging  tempest 
by  a  word,  who  could  give  sight  to  the  blind, 
health  to  the  sick,  who  could  call  the  dead  to  life, 
could  easily  thwart  all  the  plans  and  purposes  of 
his  foes. 

At  the  moment  of  his  arrest,  when  Peter,  so 
full  of  zeal,  was  ready  to  defend  him  with  the 
sword,  he  asked,  "  Thinkest  thou  that  I  cannot 
now  pray  to  my  Father,  and  he  shall  presently 
give  me  more  than  twelve  legions  of  angels?"  As 
though  he  had  said,  Are  you  not  aware  that 
instead  of  these  twelve  feeble,  timid  apostles,  I 
might  at  once  be  surrounded  and  defended  by 
unnumbered  hosts  of  powerful  spiritual  beings  ? 

When  Pilate  referred  to  his  own  power  to  cru- 
cify or  to  release  ihe  Messiah,  how  quickly  Christ 
strives  to  convince  him  that  he  could  have  no 


188  TILE  christlvn's  gift. 

power  against  liim,  except  it  were  given  liim 
from  above.  His  ample  ability,  therefore,  to  resist, 
cannot  admit  of  a  question;  but  at  no  stage  of 
his  sufferings  does  he  manifest  the  slightest  dispo- 
sition to  use  his  power  for  his  own  defence.  He 
willingly  endures  all  that  his  malignant,  cruel  foes 
see  fit  to  heap  upon  him. 

But  in  analyzing  his  state  of  mind,  we  certainly 
shall  find  some  deeper  and  more  potent  feeling, 
than  simply  willingness  to  suffer.  Although  while 
passing  through  these  trying  scenes,  the  words  of 
Christ  were  few,  jet  there  were  mighty  motives 
and  strong  emotions  agitating  his  breast.  He  was 
much  of  the  time  silent,  because  his  thoughts 
were  too  big  for  utterance.  He  had  undertaken 
the  momentous  task  of  saving  a  lost  world ;  of 
satisfying  the  demands  of  a  violated  law;  of 
reconciling  a  wayward,  guilty  race  to  an  offended 
Sovereign.  He  had  undertaken  to  furnish  those 
elements,  forces,  influences,  that  thrown  into  hu- 
man nature  would  work  it  clear  of  its  vices,  that 
would  purify  and  elevate  it,  that  would  make  of 
the  wrecks  of  human  beings,  children  of  the  infi- 
nite Father,  kings  and  priests  unto  God.  And  he 
w^as   urged    forward    by   the   pressure   of    three 


THE   CRUCIFIXION.  189 

classes  of  motives  severally  relating  to  the  condi- 
tion of  man,  his  own  glory,  and  the  will  of  the 
Father.  The  first  finds  expression  in  the  declara- 
tion of  the  Saviour,  that  he  "  Came  not  to  he  min- 
istered unto,  but  to  minister,  and  to  give  his  hfe  a 
ransom  for  many."  The  second  class  of  motives 
appears  in  the  assertion,  that  "for  the  joy  set 
before  him  he  endured  the  cross,  despising  the 
shame."  The  third  is  unfolded  in  the  inquiry, 
"  The  cup  which  my  Father  hath  given  me,  shall 
I  not  drink  it  ?  "  If  we  will  carefully  scrutinize 
these  motives,  we  shall  find  them  not  only  in 
harmony  one  with  another,  but  dependent  one 
upon  another.  It  is  an  established  law  of  the 
divine  economy,  that  the  highest  happiness  of 
which  a  moral  being  is  capable,  shall  spring  from 
the  highest  usefulness,  and  from  perfect  obedience 
to  the  divine  will.  And  if  we  have  one  of  these 
three  classes  of  motives,  the  others  will  follow  as 
a  natural  consequence.  If  I  am  a  perfectly  obe- 
dient subject  of  God's  government,  I  shall,  as  a 
consequence,  or  as  a  part  of  this  obedience,  love 
my  fellow  men,  and  do  all  in  my  power  to  pro- 
mote their  welfare.  I  shall,  too,  as  a  consequence 
of  these,  secure  my  own  highest  happiness.     If 


190  THE   christian's    GIFT. 

my  aim  is  to  secure  perfect  happiness,  I  shall  seek 
it  through  obedience  to  God  and  usefulness  to 
man.  It  is  a  fundamental  error  for  one  to  sup- 
pose that  in  order  to  act  from  pure  benevolence, 
or  supreme  love  to  God,  he  must  altogether  forget 
or  ignore  his  own  happiness.  According  to  the 
nature  of  mind  as  created  by  God,  such  a  condi- 
tion is  not  possible.  No  effort  or  labor  of  mine 
could  render  me  indifferent  to  my  own  happiness. 
And  what  is  true  of  a  finite  mind  is  true  of  the 
Infinite  mind.  The  Deity  finds  his  highest  happi- 
ness and  glory  in  blessing  his  creatures;  and  in 
calling  upon  us  to  obey  and  love  him,  he  argues 
that  we  should  do  this  because  he  first  loved  us, 
and  gave  his  only  Son  to  die  for  us.  It  is  allowed 
that  we  are  required  to  make  sacrifices,  to  deny 
ourselves,  and  take  up  the  cross  and  follow  Christ; 
but  every  sacrifice  contemplates  the  giving  up  of 
a  present  small  advantage  or  gratification,  for  a 
greater  future  good.  An  increase  of  happiness  is 
uniformly  the  result  of  the  sacrifice. 

Now  Christ  appears  upon  the  theatre  of  human 
action  with  the  sublime  declaration  upon  his  lips, 
"  Lo  I  am  come  to  do  thy  will,  0  God."  We  are 
afterAvards  informed,  that  "He  gave  himself  for 


THE   CRUCIFIXION.  191 

US  that  he  might  redeem  us  from  all  iniquity,  and 
purify  unto  himself  a  peculiar  people,  zealous  of 
good  works."  Again,  he  is  spoken  of  as  the  author 
and  finisher  of  our  fjiith,  who  for  the  joy  that  was 
set  before  him  endured  the  cross,  despising  the 
shame  ;  all  glorious  motives ;  all  harmonious  with 
each  other,  and  with  the  principles  of  holiness, 
benevolence,  and  love.  He  made,  indeed,  great 
sacrifices,  but  from  them  flow  benefits  that  reach 
and  bless  all  the  parties  concerned  in  the  work  of 
redemption.  Not  only  is  man  saved  from  the 
curse  of  the  law,  and  invited  to  participate  in  the 
joys  of  heaven,  but  because  Christ  humbled  him- 
self and  became  obedient  unto  death,  even  the 
death  of  the  cross,  therefore  God  hath  highly 
exalted  him,  and  given  him  a  name  that  is  above 
every  name.  And  the  fact  that  Christ  is  honored 
and  glorified  by  means  of  the  atoning  sacrifice 
which  he  made,  adds  to  its  power  to  bless  us ;  for 
it  makes  the  interests  of  the  saved  and  the  Sav- 
iour identical.  The  higher  the  Christian  rises  in 
spirituality,  in  moral  rectitude,  in  holiness  of 
heart,  the  more  is  the  Redeemer  honored,  and  the 
greater  will  be  his  interest  in  the  subject  of  re- 
newing grace. 


192  THE  christian's  gift. 

But  there  is  still  another  party  to  the  tragical 
scenes  of  the  crucifixion.  Although  the  agonizing 
cry  went  up  from  the  sufferer,  "My  God,  my 
God,  why  has  thou  forsaken  me  ?  "  —  although  all 
the  visible  appearances  indicated  that  the  Son  was 
abandoned  by  the  Father ;  that  the  light  of  hope 
was  fading  from  the  horizon;  that  even  nature 
was  in  its  death  struggles,  yet  what  being  in  the 
universe  was  more  deeply  interested  in  what  was 
transpiring,  than  the  infinite  Father  ?  Did  he  nof 
share  in  the  love,  the  intense,  unspeakable  love 
that  the  Son  felt  for  the  human  family  ?  Did  not 
this  great  scheme  enter  as  fully  into  his  divine 
plans  and  purposes?  Did  he  not  rejoice  that 
there  was  a  way  of  escape  for  his  guilty  children  ? 
that  there  was  a  prospect  that  the  realms  of  glory 
would  be  peopled  by  the  grateful,  happy  subjects 
of  redeeming  grace?  In  this  great  and  glorious 
work  we  cannot  separate  the  Father  and  the  Son. 
Indeed,  all  the  persons  of  the  Trinity  unite  in  it. 
We  have  here  emphatically  unity  in  trinity. 
There  is  unity  of  desire  that  man  should  be  saved. 
There  is  unity  of  purpose  that  all  the  energies 
and  resources  of  heaven  shall  be  directed  to  this 
end.     There  is  one  thrill  of  joy  at  the  completion 


.    TIIE    CRUCIFIXION.  193 

of  the  plan  of  salvation.  God  therefore  is  in  it, 
in  its  conception,  its  execution,  its  application  to 
the  wants  of  man,  in  its  effects  and  glorious  fruits. 
It  is,  in  fact,  a  revelation  from  the  Father,  reveal- 
ing his  compassion,  his  mercy,  his  anxiety  that 
our  characters  should  be  based  upon  holiness,  that 
our  aspirations  should  reach  his  throne,  that  our 
hopes  should  rest  in  heaven,  that  our  immortal 
nature  should  partake  of  the  blessedness  and 
glory  of  his  everlasting  kingdom.  For  this  event 
after  the  fall  of  man,  the  world  was  continued  in 
existence.  For  it  a  system  of  providential  plans 
and  dealings  was  set  in  motion,  that  for  four  thou- 
sand years  operated  upon  the  nations,  —  for  it  a 
particular  people  was  selected,  brought  under  the 
wings  of  the  divine  favor,  had  committed  to  them 
the  oracles  of  God,  were  gathered  in  a  royal  city, 
permitted  to  worship  in  a  temple  doubly  sacred 
by  its  consecration,  and  the  permanent  presence 
of  Jehovah  in  the  Holy  of  holies.  In  attestation 
of  the  reality  of  this  event,  this  same  people  are 
now  scattered  among  the  nations,  oppressed,  de- 
spised, fulfilling  the  cry  of  the  infuriated  mob 
around  the  person  of  Jesus,  "  His  blood  be  on  us 
and  on  our  children." 

17 


194  THE  christian's  gift. 

As  an  element  in  tlie  divine  purposes  in  regard 
to  our  race>  the  mission  of  Jesus  stands  out  as  the 
most  conspicuous  and  the  most  potent.  It  consti- 
tuted a  new  era  in  the  world's  history.  From  it 
sprang  a  new  form  of  civilization  that  penetrated 
the  nations  with  an  invisible  but  resistless  energy ; 
that  threw  out  on  every  hand  principles  of 
right,  justice,  freedom  -,  that  stimulated  literature, 
promoted  the  arts,  advanced  science,  and  every 
form  of  human  improvement.  Select  what  mod- 
ern enterprise  you  please  that  is  benefiting  man 
in  his  temporal,  social,  or  political  interests,  and 
strike  down  through  the  surface  to  its  hidden 
sources,  and  you  will  find  that  the  undercurrent 
that  bears  up  all,  and  urges  forward  all  with  a  re- 
sistless energy,  is  the  divine  life  and  achievements 
of  the  Lord  of  glory.  Select  any  conspicuous 
Christian  virtue  that  has  shone  with  lustre  amid 
the  dark  vices  of  human  depravity ;  any  wonder- 
ful triumph  of  truth  over  error,  liberty  over  des- 
potism, humanity  over  cruelty  and  oppression; 
select  any  great  civil  or  religious  revolution  that 
has  emancipated  the  human  intellect,  stimulated 
thought,  opened  the  prizes  of  life  to  all  classes, 
given  birth  to  institutions  that  are  blessing  all  the 


THE    CRUCIFIXION.  105 

interests  and  relations  of  society,  and  you  can 
trace  its  vital  power  to  the  cross  of  Calvary. 

Look  abroad  at  this  moment  over  the  face  of 
the  earth,  and  tell  me  if  there  is  another  agency 
at  work  that  can  compare  in  importance  with  this, 
that  is  moving  the  nations  with  a  mightier  im- 
pulse, that  is  more  thorouglily  arousing  them 
from  the  slumber  of  ages.  Look  above  at  the 
moral  administration  of  Jehovah,  and  tell  me 
if  the  atoning  sacrifice  of  Christ  does  not  enter 
into  that  government  as  a  controlling  force,  open- 
ing the  channels  of  mercy,  and  rendering  it  con- 
sistent for  the  great  Judge  to  be  just,  and  yet 
justify  them  that  believe. 

Most  appropriately  do  we  designate  the  Messiah 
as  the  sun  of  righteousness,  for  he  fills  the  earth 
with  light  and  the  heavens  with  glory.  The  stars 
are  no  longer  needed,  for  the  night  of  the  earth  is 
passing  away.  Joy  and  gladness  are  filling  the 
valley,  plains,  cities,  and  nations.  All  Christian 
institutions,  philanthropic  enterprises,  great  discov- 
eries, literature,  science,  art,  unite  in  one  song  of 
thanksgiving  that  is  growing  louder  and  louder, 
and  is  swelling  with  the  triumphant  march  of  the 
gospel,  that  is  echoed  from  the  islands  of  the  sea 


196  THE  christian's  gift. 

and  the  distant  continents,  and  will  one  day  roll 
around  the  globe,  and  carry  to  the  everlasting 
throne  the  tidings,  that  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth 
have  become  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord. 


THE    crucifixion. 

City  of  God!    Jerusalem, 
Why  rushes  out  thy  livmg  stream  ? 
The  turbaned  priest,  the  hoary  seer, 
The  Roman  in  his  pride,  are  here ; 
And  thousands,  tens  of  thousands,  still 
Cluster  round  Calvary's  wild  hiU. 

Still  onward  rolls  the  living  tide, 

There  rush  the  bridegroom  and  the  bride  ; 

Prince,  beggar,  soldier,  Pharisee, 

The  old,  the  young,  the  bond,  the  free ; 

The  nation's  furious  multitude. 

All  maddening  with  the  cry  of  blood. 

'T  is  glorious  morn  ;  from  height  to  height 
Shoot  the  keen  arrows  of  the  light ; 
And  glorious  in  their  central  shower, 
Palace  of  holiness  and  power. 
The  temple  on  Moriah's  brow, 
Looks  a  new  risen  sun  below. 


THE   CRUCIFIXION.  197 

But  wo  to  hill,  and  wo  to  vale ! 
Against  them  shall  come  forth  a  wail ; 
And  wo  to  bridegroom  and  to  brrde  ! 
For  death  shall  on  the  whirlwind  ride ; 
And  wo  to  thee,  resplendent  shrine, 
The  sword  is  out  for  thee  and  thine  ! 

Hide,  hide  thee  in  the  heavens,  thou  sun^ 
Before  the  deed  of  blood  is  done  I 
Upon  that  temple's  haughty  steep, 
Jerusalem's  last  angels  weep : 
They  see  destruction's  funeral  pall 
Blackening  o'er  Sion's  sacred  walL 

Still  pours  along  the  multitude. 

Still  rends  the  heavens  the  shout  of  blood ; 

But  on  the  murderers'  furious  van 

Who  totters  on  ?     A  weary  man ; 

A  cross  upon  his  shoulders  bound. 

His  brow,  his  frame,  one  gushing  wound. 

And  now  he  treads  on  Calvary, 
What  slave  upon  that  hill  must  die  ? 
What  hand,  what  heart  in  guilt  imbued, 
Must  be  the  mountain  vulture's  food  ? 
There  stand  two  victims,  gaunt  and  bare, 
Two  culprits,  emblems  of  despair. 

Yet  who  the  third  ?     The  yell  of  shame 
Is  frenzied  at  the  sufferer's  name ; 

17* 


198  THE  christian's  gift. 

Hands  clenched,  teeth  gnashing,  vestures  torn, 
The  curse,  the  taunt,  the  laugh  of  scorn. 
All  that  the  dying  hour  can  sting, 
Are  round  thee  now,  thou  thorn-crowned  king. 

Yet  cursed,  and  tortured,  taunted,  spurned, 
No  wrath  is  for  the  wrath  returned, 
No  vengeance  flashes  from  the  eye. 
The  sufferer  calmly  waits  to  die ; 
The  sceptre  reed,  the  thorny  crown, 
Wake  on  that  pallid  brow  no  frown. 

At  last  the  word  of  death  is  given, 
The  form  is  bound,  the  nails  are  driven ; 
Now  triumph,  Scribe  and  Pharisee  ! 
Now,  Roman,  bend  the  mocking  knee  ! 
The  cross  is  reared.     The  deed  is  done, 
There  stands  Messiah's  earthly  throne  ! 

This  was  the  earth's  consummate  hour ! 
For  this  had  blazed  the  prophet's  power ; 
For  this  had  swept  the  conqueror's  sword, 
Had  ravaged,  raised,  cast  down,  restored ; 
Persepolis,  Rome,  Babylon, 
For  this  ye  sank,  for  this  ye  shone. 

Yet  things  to  which  earth's  brightest  beam 
Were  darkness,  earth  itself  a  dream, 
Foreheads  on  which  shall  crowns  be  laid, 
Sublime  when  sun  and  star  shall  fade ; 


THE   CRUCIFIXION.  199 

Worlds  upon  worlds,  eternal  things, 
Hung  on  thy  anguish,  King  of  kings  ! 

Still  from  his  lip  no  curse  has  come, 
His  lofty  eye  has  looked  no  doom  ; 
No  earthquake  burst,  no  angel  brand 
Crushes  the  black,  blaspheming  band : 
What  say  those  lips  by  anguish  riven  ? 
"  God,  be  my  murderers  forgiven ! " 

He  dies,  in  whose  high  victory 
The  slayer.  Death,  himself  shall  die. 
He  dies  ;  by  whose  all-conquering  tread 
Shall  yet  be  crushed  the  serpent's  head ; 
From  his  proud  throne  to  darkness  hurled, 
The  god  and  tempter  of  this  world. 

He  dies  creation's  awful  Lord, 

Jehovah,  Christ,  Eternal  Word ! 

To  come  in  thunder  from  the  skies ; 

To  bid  the  buried  world  arise ; 

The  earth  his  footstool,  heaven  his  throne ; 

Redeemer !  may  thy  will  be  done. 

Crolt. 


200  THE  christian's  gift. 


THE    CRUCIFIXION 


I  ASKED  the  heavens,  "  What  foes  to  God  had  done 

This  unexampled  deed  ?  "     The  heavens  exclaimed, 
"  'T  was  man,  and  we  in  horror  snatched  the  sun 

From  such  a  spectacle  of  guilt  and  shame." 
I  asked  the  sea ;  the  sea  in  fury  boiled, 

And  answered  with  his  voice  of  storms,  "'T  was  man ; 
My  waves  in  panic  at  his  crime  recoiled, 

Disclosed  the  abyss,  and  from  the  centre  ran." 
I  asked  the  earth  ;  the  earth  replied,  aghast, 

"  'T  was  man ;  and  such  strange  pangs  my  bosom  rent, 
That  still  I  groan  and  shudder  at  the  past." 

—  To  man,  gay,  smiling,  thoughtless  man,  I  went, 
And  asked  him  next ;  —  he  turned  a  scornful  eye, 
Shook  his  proud  head,  and  deigned  me  no  reply. 

James  Montgomeby. 


THE   WANING    NIGHT   AND    COMING   DAY. 


BY    EEV.    WILLIAM   8.    STUDLEY. 


It  may  be  truthfully  said  of  all  those  who  have 
entered  upon  the  Christian  life,  that  their  "  night 
is  far  spent."  Although  a  man,  in  accepting  the 
salvation  wrought  out  by  Christ  does,  by  vir- 
tue of  the  act,  enter  upon  a  state  of  compara- 
tive blessedness,  having  his  feet  taken  from  a  hor- 
rible pit  and  placed  upon  a  spiritual  rock,  with 
the  additional  blessings  imparted  to  him  of  peace, 
and  joy,  and  hope ;  yet  this  blessedness  is  only 
comparative;  the  full  fruition  of  Christianity's 
blessings  is  in  the  life  to  come.  However  much 
of  blessing  the  Christian  may  be  enabled  to  expe- 
rience in  this  life,  however  deep  his  joy,  however 
peaceful  his  heart,  however  bright  his  hopes,  he 

(201) 


202  THE  christian's  gift. 

must  feel,  at  times,  the  shackles  of  sin  and  igno- 
rance; the  night  of  temptation,  and  trial,  and 
suffering ;  and  although  the  Christian  may  be  well 
apprised  of  this,  yet  in  view  of  his  knowledge  that 
time  is  short,  and  that  he  will  soon  stand  in  the 
presence  of  Christ,  he  is  entitled  to  rejoice ;  for  in 
his  presence  there  is  no  more  night  to  the  soul. 

That  is  a  very  narrow  view  of  Christianity 
which  leads  men  to  suppose  that  the  blessings 
which  it  dispenses  in  this  life,  are  the  greatest  gifts 
which  it  can  possibly  bestow.  However,  there  is 
too  much  of  night  about  our  hearts  to  enable  us 
to  see  the  full  value,  or  inherit  the  richest  bestow- 
ments  of  Christianity.  We  have  reason  to  believe 
from  the  declarations  of  Christ,  and  the  promises 
of  his  gospel,  that  this  life,  with  all  the  blessings 
which  our  souls,  as  at  present  constituted,  can  pos- 
sibly contain,  is  nothing  to  be  compared  with  the 
life  that  shall  hereafter  be  revealed  in  the  experi- 
ence of  the  Christian  believer.  We  understand, 
from  the  teachings  of  Scripture,  that  man's  best 
estate  upon  earth  is  vanity ;  that  clouds  and  dark- 
ness are  continually  obstructing  man's  perceptions 
of  Jehovah ;  that  there  is  a  law  in  man's  members 
which  is  warring  continually  against  the  law  of 


THE   WANING   NIGHT   AND    COMING   DAY.  203 

his  mind  when  it  seeks  to  be  Christlike;  that  man 
is  born  to  suffering,  that  he  is  of  few  days  and  full 
of  trouble.  These  declarations  are  applicable  to 
the  Christian  as  well  as  to  the  unbeliever.  We 
are  all  doomed,  by  the  natural  condition  of  things 
within  and  without,  to  experience  discomforts  and 
sorrows ;  but  to  those  who  put  on  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  the  Bible  opens  up  a  blessed  assurance  that 
when  life  terminates,  their  souls  enter  upon  such 
a  state  of  being  as  is  free  from  all  earthly  shackles 
and  besetments :  so  that  there  is  reallv  no  time  in 
the  Christian's  life  when  he  may  not  rejoice  in 
the  assurance  that  his  night  is  far  spent;  for 
however  prolonged  his  life  may  be,  its  longest^ 
term  is  so  very  brief,  that  he  is  constantly 
standing  upon  the  threshold  of  heaven.  We  are- 
taught  by  Eevelation  that  in  the  land  of  the  blest 
"there  shall  be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow, 
nor  crying,  nor  pain;"  and,  furthermore,  we  are- 
taught,  for  our  special  encouragement  and  bless- 
ing, that  "  there  shall  be  no  night  there ; "  hence 
we  may  justly  conclude  that  the  Christian,  in 
view  of  the  nearness  of  heaven,  is  always  in  that 
position  which  permits  him  to  exclaim,  truthfully,. 
"The  day  is  at  hand." 


204  THE  christian's  gift. 

There  are  many  periods  in  the  Christian's  ex- 
perience, that  are  rightly  typified  by  night;  and 
as  these  seasons  never  recur  to  a  soul  that  has 
once  entered  through  the  pearly  gates,  the  be- 
liever is  specially  privileged  to  rejoice  in  prospect 
of  his  speedy  deliverance.  One  element  of  spir- 
itual night  to  the  believer  springs  from  his  exces- 
sive ignorance*  To  understand  this  we  have  only 
to  remark,  that  although  entrance  upon  the  Chris- 
tian life  does  tend  to  implant  in  the  mind  more 
extended  desires  for  knowledge  than  were  pre- 
viously experienced,  yet  the  Christian,  like  the 
unbeliever,  is  dependent  upon  unceasing  efforts  to 
secure  to  himself  even  the  most  insignificant 
fruits  of  wisdom.  To  illustrate  his  ignorance, — 
let  him  come  out  on  a  summer  night,  and  see  the 
stars  twinkling  in  the  heavens ;  he  may  tell  you 
the  names  with  which  men  designate  them,  and 
their  distance  from  the  earth ;  but  question  him 
never  so  much,  and  you  can  obtain  no  certain 
knowledge  whether  or  not  the  stars  are  peopled 
worlds.  Turn  to  the  little  flower  that  grows  at 
his  feet;  ask  him  how  it  obtains  vitality  and  sweet- 
ness from  the  cold,  damp  earth,  and  he  is  dumb ; 
he  gives  you  not  a  word.     Take  a  simple  forest 


THE  WANING   NIGHT   AND   COMING  DAY.  205 

leaf;  direct  his  notice  to  its  peculiar  form  and 
fibres, —  ask  him  why  it  invariably  assumes  its 
individual  shape  and  characteristics ;  ask  him  why 
the  foliage  of  the  oak  is  always  distinguishable 
from  the  foliage  of  the  ash,  and  the  willow  from 
the  fir,  —  he  can  only  say  that  it  is  so,  —  he  fails 
to  answer  ivhi/  ;  and  if  he  fails  in  regard  to  knowl- 
edge of  such  seemingly  unimportant  earthly  mat- 
ters, how  deeply  ignorant  must  he  be  of  the 
things  that  are  heavenly !  If  the  things  that  are 
seen  and  temporal  are  so  full  of  mystery,  what 
does  he  or  can  he  know  of  the  things  that  are 
unseen  and  eternal  ?  The  faith  of  the  Christian 
insures  to  him  the  comforting  hope,  that  there  is 
an  eternal  rest  remaining  for  the  righteous;  but 
he  can  tell  no  more  than  the  worldling,  w^hether 
the  final  home  of  the  redeemed  is  to  be  a  glorious 
city,  with  beautiful  foundations,  or  simply  a  spirit- 
ual state.  He  reads  that  there  exists  a  mysterious 
Trinity  in  unity,  but  he  can  neither  tell  nor  see 
how  this  is  possible.  He  reads  of  glorified  spirits, 
but  he  has  no  fixed  or  definite  conception  of  their 
nature  or  their  blessedness.  He  has  heard  of 
angels  that  excel  in  strength,  but  he  cannot  com- 
prehend the  power  of  an  angel.     He  does  not 

18 


206  THE  christian's  gift. 

know  by  what  unseen  bonds  of  sympathy  God 
and  man  are  related.  He  cannot  tell  how  it  is 
that  the  Holy  Ghost  does  its  office  upon  human 
souls.  He  does  not  understand  the  connection 
that  exists  between  salvation  and  faith.  He  feels 
within  himself  a  divine  impulse,  and,  for  want  of 
a  better  term,  he  calls  it  conscience ;  but  question 
him  closely  concerning  its  location,  and  he  can 
answer  nothing.  He  reads  that  there  shall  be  a 
resurrection  of  the  dead ;  he  sees  no  trace  of 
those  w^ho  died  long  centuries  since,  and  though 
he  believes  the  declaration,  yet  he  can  by  no 
means  point  out  its  method  of  fulfilment.  His 
soul  may  be  full  of  faith,  his  heart  may  overflow 
with  joy ;  yet  in  that  very  hour  he  is  ignorant  of 
the  true  nature  of  every  thing  eternal.  The 
divine  essence,  the  holy  trinity,  the  angel  brother- 
hood, every  thing  beyond  time's  boundaries,  save 
the  fact  of  judgment  and  immortality,  is  sealed  to 
his  inquiring  mind.  He  thirsts  for  some  certain 
knowledge  of  eternal  things;  he  groans  to  be 
delivered  from  his  thraldom  of  ignorance ;  but 
when  his  friends  endeavor  to  fathom  the  eternal 
mysteries,  he  feels  that  they  only  "  darken  coun- 
sel by  words  without  knowledge." 


THE   WANING   NIGHT   AND    COMING   DAY.  207 

Such  is  the  earthly  condition  of  man,  and  such 
must  it  ever  be.  But  to  the  Christian,  there  is  a 
power  of  comfort  in  the  fact  that  Hfe  is  short,  and 
that  when  he  passes  the  dark  river  of  division 
between  eternity  and  time,  all  this  ignorance 
which  now  hangs  about  his  spirit  will  be  removed. 
Light  shall  descend  into  the  depths  of  his  soul. 
Then  shall  he  know  even  as  he  is  known.  Then 
he  shall  see  face  to  face.  The  mysteries  of  re- 
demption will  be  made  as  clear  as  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  own  existence.  The  divine  character 
will  be  perfectly  disclosed.  The  clouds  and  dark- 
ness that  are  now  about  Jehovah,  will  be  dissi- 
pated by  the  powerful  sunlight  of  eternity.  Ming- 
ling with  the  angels,  he  shall  become  as  one  of 
them,  comprehending  their  life,  excelling  in 
strength,  joyful  in  praises.  The  method  of  man's 
resurrection  will  be  perfectly  clear  to  a  soul  that 
has  passed  beyond  the  eternal  battlements.  All 
those  mysterious  workings  of  the  soul  which  so 
baffle  the  human  understanding  now,  will  be  laid 
bare  to  his  perceptions.  When  the  soul  passes 
away  to  the  companionship  of  its  Redeemer,  it 
enters  into  a  full  conception  and  consciousness  of 
truth. 


208  THE  christian's  gift. 

Christian  reader,  as  we  have  this  assurance  set 
before  us,  do  we  experience  no  kindlings  of  joy  ? 
As  we  are  assured  of  the  successful  termination  of 
our  struggles  and  conflicts  for  wisdom,  do  we 
experience  no  deep  emotions  of  pleasure  ?  Think 
how  near  we  stand  to  eternity,  —  only  the  brief 
remnant  of  this  earthly  pilgrimage  between  our 
spirits  and  the  full  noonday  of  truth.  As  we  see 
the  shadows  of  life  passing  away  more  and  more 
rapidly,  and  behold  the  coming  on  of  eternity 
with  its  enlightening  beams,  0  let  the  assurances 
of  the  gospel  be  to  us  a  signal  of  hope,  and  let  us 
rejoice  abundantly  in  the  thought,  that  in  our 
experience  the  night  of  ignorance  is  far  spent, 
and  the  day  of  truth  is  at  hand. 

Another  element  of  spiritual  night  in  the  ex- 
perience of  a  Christian  arises  from  temjdation. 
Whichever  way  man,  and  especially  a  believer 
in  Christianity,  turns,  he  is  exposed  to  great 
temptations.  They  beset  him  on  every  side.  He 
is  like  Bimyan's  pilgrim  passing  through  the  dark 
valley,  —  "when  he  sought  to  shun  the  ditch  on 
the  one  hand,  he  was  ready  to  fall  over  into  the 
mire  on  the  other ;  and  when  he  sought  to  escape 
the  mire,  without  great  carefulness,  he  was  ready 


THE   WANING   NIGHT   AND    COMING   DAY.  209 

to  fall  into  the  ditch."  He  is  exposed  to  the 
enticement  of  his  own  evil  propensities.  He  is 
not  only  liable  to  actual  transgression,  by  obeying 
his  own  unchristianized  affections,  but  he  is  con- 
stantly beset  with  false  doctrines,  that  are  awfully 
destructive  in  their  operations  upon  the  soul.  He 
is  always  exposed  to  the  seductive  influences  of 
Satan,  robed  as  an  angel  of  light.  As  far  as  the 
curse  of  sin  is  found,  so  far  extends  man's  liability 
to  be  tempted.  On  all  the  earth,  far  out  at  sea, 
in  public  and  retirement,  everywhere  and  always, 
is  the  soul  of  man  exposed  to  the  machinations 
of  evil.  How  deeply  does  this  fact  enter  into  the 
experience  of  the  Christian  believer.  How  his 
heart  trembles  when  he  looks  at  the  pitfalls  to 
which  he  is  constantly  exposed,  and  then  regards 
his  own  exceeding  frailty.  He  needs  all  the  in- 
citements of  an  earnest  faith,  a  wellgrounded 
assurance,  and  even  then  he  fears  lest  he  at  last 
become  a  castaway. 

But  the  gospel  of  Christ  holds  out  ample  en- 
couragement to  such.  It  says  to  the  trembhng 
believer,  Fear  not,  but  hold  fast  your  integrity. 
Your  pilgrimage  is  wellnigh  ended.  Your  season 
of  temptation  is  almost  past.     The  hour  of  your 

18* 


210  THE    CHRISTLIN'S    GIFT. 

deliverance  is  near.  Cast  your  eyes  upward. 
Look  at  the  land  of  safety  lying  just  beyond  the 
stream  of  death.  That  land  is  your  inheritance. 
There  abideth  everlasting  spring.  There  the 
wicked  cease  from  troubling.  There  the  power 
of  temptation  will  be  broken.  Look  again.  See 
how  near  your  present  dwelling  lies  to  that  blessed 
country,  —  all  yours  by  the  gift  of  Christ.  Be  not 
dismayed,  then,  at  the  wiles  of  Satan.  Hold  fast 
your  confidence  a  little  season  longer,  for  the 
night  of  temptation  is  far  spent,  and  the  day  of 
deliverance  is  near. 

Another  element  of  spiritual  night  lies  in  the 
severe  trials  to  which  the  Christian  believer  is 
subjected.  Although  lasting  good  results  from 
that  experience  which  is  as  wormwood  to  the 
Christian's  heart,  yet  the  process  of  the  trial  is 
naturally  creative  of  gloom.  Take  him  in  the 
hour  when  his  faith  is  assailed  by  the  powers  of 
evil;  when  he  loses  sight,  for  a  moment,  of  the 
efl&cacy  of  Christ ;  when  shadows  envelop  his  soul, 
so  that  he  can  in  no  manner  understand  his  own 
spiritual  condition;  take  the  Christian  in  such  a 
season,  —  look  into  his  mind,  —  see  what  suffering 
is  his.     And  these  seasons  are  not  unfrequent  in 


THE  WANING   NIGHT  AND    COMING   DAY.  211 

the  Christian's  experience.  At  such  times  his 
faith  is  so  weak  that,  instead  of  seeing  the  prob- 
abihtj  of  Christianity's  prevalence  in  all  the  earth, 
he  even  staggers  in  despair  of  its  prevalence  in 
his  own  heart. 

Then  there  are  trials  of  patience,  when  the  soul 
is  so  wrought  upon  by  external  circumstances,  as  to 
awaken  all  its  propensities  to  the  indulgence  of 
passion.  To  these  the  Christian  is  subject  in 
common  with  other  men.  Business  perplexities, 
household  cares,  social  anxieties,  all  tend  to  darken 
the  view  of  the  behever.  In  their  presence,  at 
times,  he  feels  himself  surrounded  by  night,  —  en- 
compassed with  thick  clouds  which  hide  from  him 
the  beams  of  the  Sun  of  Kighteousness,  the  face 
of  his  Redeemer.  This  is  a  common  experience 
of  the  believer.  These  clouds  of  trial  will  gather 
about  him ;  these  seasons  of  darkness  will  over- 
take him ;  this  night  of  anxiety  is  sure  to  come. 

But  there  is  a  blessing  in  the  thought  that  this 
night  of  trial  is  only  for  a  season ;  it  does  not  go 
on  for  ever.  Very  soon  the  morning  light  of  a 
peaceful  heaven  will  send  its  joyous  beams  into 
the  believer's  soul,  and  from  that  hour  there  shall 
be  no  further  trial  or  besetment.     Very  soon  the 


212  THE  christian's  gift. 

mists  and  fogs  of  night  will  all  be  dissipated  by 
the  sunshine  of  an  endless  day.  Even  now,  that 
day  is  near  at  hand.  The  night  is  already  far 
spent.  Up  the  eastern  sky  of  every  Christian  be- 
liever's experience,  come  the  tokens  of  a  rising 
light.  Soon,  very  soon,  we  are  to  stand  upon  that 
shore,  where  night,  and  storm,  and  darkness,  shall 
have  ceased  for  ever.  Let  us  suffer  the  thought 
to  pervade  our  hearts,  and  send  its  strength 
through  all  the  avenues  *  of  our  consciousness, 
that  the  night  of  trial  is  far  spent,  and  the  day 
of  releasement  is  at  hand. 

But  a  more  universal  and  far  deeper  source  of 
darkness  to  the  believer's  soul,  is  that  which  arises 
from  affliction.  Upon  some  Christian  hearts,  ordi- 
nary temptations,  customary  trials,  seem  to  sit 
lightly.  At  times,  it  would  almost  seem  that  they 
were  completely  free  from  these  elements  of  dark- 
ness. Doubts  appear  to  be  absent.  In  the  midst 
of  temptations  they  seem  to  go  conscious  of  safety. 
They  scarcely  recognize  the  trials  that  annoy  the 
multitude.  But  even  they  are  called  to  the  expe- 
rience of  afflictions.  From  the  darkness  of  sor- 
row no  man  is  exempt.  It  comes  alike  to  the 
parent  and  child  \  the  rich  and  the  poor ;  the  beg- 


THE  WAOTNG  NIGHT   AND    COMING  DAY.  213 

gar  and  the  king.  The  mother  is  called  to  part 
with  her  cherished  infant.  The  father  weeps  over 
his  prostrate  son.  The  husband  is  torn  from  his 
bride.  The  wife  is  removed  from  her  beloved. 
Children  are  left  to  the  bitter  woes  of  orphanage. 
No  man  or  class  of  men  comes  to  the  grave  with- 
out passing  through  this  night  of  bereavement 
and  distress.  Anguish  is  man's  chief  earthly  in- 
heritance. That  crowded  graveyard  is  significant 
of  sorrow.  That  passing  bell  is  a  telltale  of  calam- 
ity. These  numerous  weeds  are  indicative  of 
grief  Hospitals,  insane  retreats,  blind  asylums, 
orphan  homes,  all  confirm  the  thought  that  man 
is  full  of  trouble.  His  whole  life  seems  to  be  a 
constant  exposure  to  suffering.  Dear  ones  are 
snatched  from  his  side  and  borne  away  to  the 
sepulchre,  and  his  fondest  hopes  are  blighted 
by  the  touch  of  woe.  Answer  ye  who  read 
these  pages,  —  look  over  your  past  years  and  an- 
swer,—  have  you  not  passed  through  bitter  wa- 
ters? Have  you  not  experienced  many  heart 
calamities  ?  Has  not  your  life,  as  it  were,  a  night 
of  fearful  dreams?  We  go  to  the  dwelling  of 
affluence  and  ask  for  a  chapter  from  its  owner's 
history,  and  on  the  record  we  read  many  a  tale 


214  THE  christian's  gift. 

of  suffering.  We  enter  the  home  of  poverty  to 
find  that  calamity  has  been  there  before  us,  and 
left  some  heart  all  bleeding.  Whichever  way  we 
turn,  we  see  the  indications  of  an  ever-present 
night  of  sorrow.  We  take  up  our  daily  register 
of  news,  and  our  attention  is  attracted,  first  of  all, 
to  the  record  of  those  who  have  fallen  in  the  bat- 
tle of  life.  This  is  our  first  inquiry  on  returning 
home  from  a  protracted  absence.  However  much 
we  may  dread  affliction,  we  have  learned  to  know 
that  it  will  come,  —  and  this  certainty  creates  un- 
rest of  soul.  Now  and  then  the  heart  inquires, 
tremblingly,  who  wdll  be  the  next  to  pass  away 
from  our  hearth-stones  ?  And  as  the  conscious- 
ness of  uncertainty  deepens,  there  descends  upon 
the  soul  a  gloom  like  night. 

In  such  seasons,  the  man  of  the  world  may  seek 
relief,  by  hardening  his  sensibilities  with  some  sto- 
ical philosophy,  —  but  relief  from  such  a  source 
is  brutish,  and  in  nowise  spiritual.  Not  such  the 
method  of  the  Christian.  When  his  heart  is  be- 
reaved and  clouded  with  sorrow,  —  when  the  thick 
gloom  of  affliction  gathers  about  his  soul,  he  reads 
the  comprehensive  instruction  of  some  inspired 
prophet,  betokening  speedy  and  perpetual  deliver- 


THE   WANING   NIGHT   AND    COMING   DAY.  215 

ance,  —  and  to  him  there  arises  light  in  the  dark- 
ness. "  The  morning  cometh/'  is  the  cry  of  the 
watchmen  on  the  walls  of  life.  "  The  day  is  at 
hand,"  is  the  welcome  utterance  of  inspiration. 
"  There  shall  be  no  more  sorrow,  nor  crying, 
nor  pain,"  is  the  assurance  of  prophecy  concern- 
ing heaven.  0,  then,  let  us  lift  up  our  sorrowing 
hearts.  Let  us  look  away  to  the  land  of  light 
and  blessedness,  where  the  night  of  mourning 
shall  cease  for  ever,  and  the  day  of  gladness  shall 
possess  our  souls. 

But  the  chief  element  of  spiritual  night  is  sin. 
This  it  is  that  underlies  and  gives  vitality  to  all 
the  rest.  Had  it  not  been  for  sin,  man,  we  think, 
would  never  have  been  so  deficient  in  mental 
power.  His  communion  with  God  in  Eden  would 
have  preserved,  unimpaired,  his  reason  and  judg- 
ment. With  such  powers  and  with  such  compan- 
ionship from  day  to  day,  man  would  have  speedily 
attained  to  something  like  an  anp^ers  breadth  of 
view.  Unfettered  by  passion  and  lust,  he  would 
have  mounted,  as  on  the  wings  of  eagles,  far  up^ 
into  the  intellectual  sunlight.  It  is  sin  that  has 
made  us  such  mental  pigmies.  It  is  sin  that  has 
crippled  our  powers  of  thought.     It  is  sin  that 


/ 


216  THE  christian's  gift. 

has  shorn  us  of  our  mental  beauty  and  moral 
strength.  Look  at  mankind,  groping  about  in 
darkness,  their  eyes  bent  earthward,  given  up  to 
sensual  thoughts,  yielding  to  the  dictates  of  their 
baser  nature,  forgetful  of  their  Godlikeness,  heed- 
less of  their  spiritual  state,  stumbling  along  the 
brink  of  wo.  What  has  brought  us  to  this  sad 
condition  ?  Sin.  It  is  sin  that  encircles  us  with 
temptation;  it  is  sin  that  envelops  us  in  error;  it 
is  sin  that  darkens  the  perceptions  of  our  moral 
being.  It  is  sin  that  has  brought  us  under  the 
tyranny  of  trials ;  it  is  sin  that  has  left  us  to  en- 
dure the  pangs  of  poverty;  it  is  sin  that  has 
placed  the  wormwood  in  our  cup  of  life.  This  is 
the  parent  of  our  afflictions.  It  was  the  triumph 
of  sin  that  brought  death  into  the  world.  The 
crowded  burial-places  of  earth  and  sea,  speak 
loudly  of  the  many  victories  of  Death,  and  Death 
is  the  firsi>born  child  of  sin.  Whatever  we  see  in 
man  that  is  perverted,  whether  in  heart  or  judg- 
ment, we  may  know  that  perversity  to  be  the 
work  of  sin ;  for  man  was  fashioned  in  the  like- 
ness of  his  Maker,  and  received  that  Maker's  ben- 
ediction. What  has  not  sin  done  to  man !  It  has 
robbed  him  of  heart,  and  mind,  and  strength ;  of 


THE  WANING  NIGHT   AND    COMING   DAY.  217 

physical  beauty,  intellectual  power,  moral  worth. 
It  has  taken  man  from  the  dominion  of  God,  and 
given  him  over  to  be  the  subject  of  evil.  It  has 
removed  him  from  the  society  of  angels,  to  the 
blighting  influence  of  fallen  spirits.  It  has  taken 
away  his  assurance  of  eternal  life,  and  rendered 
his  future  good  subject  to  fearful  hazards.  What 
has  not  sin  wrought  ?  It  has  shed  down  upon  the 
moral  world  all  the  darkness  and  deadly  malaria 
of  night.  You  can  name  no  evil  that  may  not  be 
traced  to  sin.  It  is  this  that  blinds  us  to  the 
beauty  of  our  Almighty  Father.  It  is  this  that 
hinders  our  hearts  from  resting  peacefully  in  God, 
It  is  this  that  chills  our  aspirations  after  the  glories 
of  the  better  life.  By  this  we  are  made  the  heirs 
of  grief,  and  pain,  and  death.  Is  there  any  thing 
surprising  in  the  fact  that  God  and  sin  are  in  oppo- 
sition ?  that  he  cannot  regard  sin  with  allowance  ? 
And  to  this  dangerous  power  we  are  all  exposed 
in  every  stage  of  our  history.  We  cannot  remove 
ourselves  from  its  destructive  influence.  We  may 
lead  a  Christian  life  that  will  give  us  strength  to 
resist  its  seductions ;  but  while  we  live  it  will  yet 
be  near  us.  The  grace  of  God  may  so  fortify  our 
hearts  as  to  enable  us  to  overcome  the  mighty 

19 


218  THE  christian's  gift. 

hosts  of  temptation,  still  they  will  make  their  fear- 
ful onsets  against  us ;  and  the  fact  that  evil  is  so 
prevalent,  and  so  deadly  in  its  effects,  ought  to 
drive  man  Christ-ward,  for  Christ  is  his  only 
helper.  It  ought  to  strike  such  terror  to  the 
heart  of  the  sinner,  as  to  lead  him  to  the  protec- 
tion of  God's  all-sufficient  grace.  If  the  trans- 
gressor of  right  could  clearly  see  the  dangerous 
position  which  he  occupies,  it  would  seem  as  if 
the  view  must  drive  him  to  the  Almighty  arm 
for  deliverance  and  protection;  for  to  him  who 
continues  the  willing  servant  of  sin,  there  is  not 
only  perpetual  darkness  in  life,  but  the  shades  of 
night  about  his  spirit  will  grow  more  and  more 
deAse,  as  he  comes  down  to  the  gates  of  death, 
and  the  blackness  of  darkness  will  envelop  his 
soul  forever. 

But  to  us  who  believe  in  Christ,  does  the  Sun 
of  Kighteousness  arise  with  healing  in  his  beams. 
In  the  midst  of  our  peril  and  darkness,  there  comes 
a  voice  out  of  the  excellent  glory,  saying,  "It  shall 
soon  be  light.  This  darkness  shall  not  go  on  with 
you  forever.  There  is  a  country,  yours  by  inheri- 
tance, where  there  entereth  not  a  sin ! "  A  little 
longer  must  our  hearts  experience  the  shadows  of 


THE   WANING   NIGHT   AND    COMING   DAY.  219 

evening  and  the  gloom  of  night ;  but  it  is  only 
for  a  season.  Very  soon  the  shadows  will  disperse. 
Even  now,  we  are  so  near  the  grave  we  can  almost 
see  them  pass  away.  Even  now,  the  night  of  sin 
is  far  spent;  its  hours  of  darkness  are  almost  gone. 
The  clock  of  eternity  will  soon  strike  out  the 
knell  of  time,  and  as  its  last  echo  dies  away,  our 
spirits  shall  wing  themselves  upward  from  the 
mists  of  earth.  Those  of  us  who  believe  in  Christ 
may  make  ready  our  songs  of  rejoicing,  for  the 
day  of  purity  is  near  at  hand. 

My  Christian  friend,  is  there  not  a  power  of 
comfort  in  the  assurance  of  the  speedy  coming  of 
an  eternal  day  ?  Do  not  our  hearts  burn  within 
us  as  we  see  the  night  preparing  to  lift  itself  from 
our  spirits  ?  A  little  time,  and  ignorance,  tempta- 
tion, trial,  affliction,  sin,  will  have  lost  all  power 
upon  us,  for  the  land  to  which  we  hasten  is  a  land 
of  light.  Then  let  our  hearts  be  encouraged  to 
cling  to  Christ,  to  rely  on  God.  From  the  gospel 
let  our  souls  gather  strength  to  resist  evil.  Let 
our  glad  spirits  drink  in  hope,  from  the  assurance 
that  the  night  of  life  is  rapidly  waning,  and  the 
day  of  eternity  and  heaven  is  hastening  on. 


220 


THE    MIDNIGHT    VOICE. 

BT  ALBERT  LAIGHTOK. 

Father,  at  this  calm  hour, 
Alone,  in  prayer,  I  bend  an  humble  knee : 
My  soul  in  silence  wings  its  flight  to  Thee, 

And  owns  Thy  boundless  power. 

Day's  weary  toil  is  o'er ; 
No  worldly  strife  my  heartfelt  worship  mars ; 
Beneath  the  mystery  of  the  silent  stars, 

I  tremble  and  adore. 

Not  when  the  frenzied  storm 
Writhes  'mid  the  darkness,  till  in  wild  despair, 
Bursting  its  thunder-chains,  the  lightning's  glare 

Reveals  its  awful  form : 

I  wait  not  for  that  hour ! 
In  flower  and  dew,  in  seasons  calm  and  free, 
I  hear  " a  still,  small  voice"  that  speaks  of  Thee 

With  holier,  deeper  power. 

Above  the  thunder  notes, 
Serene  and  clear,  the  music  of  the  spheres 
Forever  rolls,  though  not  to  mortal  ears 

The  heavenly  cadence  floats. 
Portsmouth,  N.  H. 


SHADOWS.  221 


SHADOWS. 


Y     H ADA  8SA 


This  is  a  land  of  shadows ; 

In  happiness  or  care 
They  follow  on  our  footsteps 

Like  phantoms,  everywhere. 

Shadows,  darkly  brooding 

On  the  cottage  wall, 
Shadows  in  the  curtains 

Of  the  rich  man's  halL 

Where  the  forest  standeth, 
Where  the  green  grass  waves, 

Where  the  ocean  smileth, 
O'er  the  place  of  graves. 

Where  the  gay  procession 
Moveth  through  the  street. 

Where  the  funeral  follows. 
Telling  time  is  fleet. 

Where  the  sounds  of  pleasure 

Steal  upon  the  air, 
In  the  lonely  graveyard — 

Shadows  everywhere. 

19* 


222 


Shadows  when  the  maiden 
Wears  the  bridal  wreath, 

Shadows  when  she  sinketh 
To  the  arms  of  death. 

Shadows  when  the  infant 
Comes  to  bless  our  store, 

Shadows  when  its  coffin 
Passes  from  the  door. 

In  the  days  of  childhood, 
In  our  manhood's  prime. 

In  the  old  man's  twilight. 
Shadows  on  each  time. 

Shadows  where  the  Christian 
Treads  his  way  to  God, 

In  the  path  of  sorrow 
That  his  Saviour  trod. 

When  his  faith  is  strongest. 
When  his  footsteps  roam. 

Still  the  shadow  veileth 
His  eternal  home. 

Shadows  darkly  brooding 
O'er  the  brow  of  death. 

As  he  bids  the  trembler 
Yield  his  fleeting  breath. 


INVOCATION  TO   FAITH.  223 

Shadows  darkly  stealing, 

Like  the  shades  of  night 
Over  death's  stern  portal : 

Onward  — fadeless  light ! 


INVOCATION  TO  FAITH. 

BY    HABBIET    M^EWEN   KIMBALL. 
I. 

Come  thou,  with  that  calm  smile  of  thine 
Illuming  all  "  Life's  solemn  main ; " 

And  join  thy  trusting  tones,  sweet  Faith, 
With  radiant  Hope's  enrapturing  strain. 

II. 

Floating  upon  the  tideless  sea 
In  this  poor,  fragile  bark  I  stand, 

And  tremble  at  the  gloom  beyond 
Veiling  the  brighter,  better  Land. 

III. 
Yet  if  thou  smilest,  holy  Faith !  — 

With  starlike  eyes  upon  the  sea, 
My  spirit  will  not  fear  the  storms, 

But  sail  in  lasting  peace  with  thee ! 


224  THE  chkistlvn's  gift. 

IV. 

Come,  then  ;  for  oh !  "  my  soul  is  dark ! " 
To  cheer  my  way,  to  thee,  'tis  given ; 

Thy  bosom  shall  my  pillow  be  — 

Thy  voice  shall  sing  my  soul  to  Heaven ! 

V. 

Clasping  thy  dear  hand  in  the  gloom, 
Why  should  I  fear  the  clouds  above  ? 

My  bark  all  shattered  by  the  storm, 
Yet  am  I  safe  in  arms  of  love ! 

Portsmouth,  N.  H. 


•  ••4 


;  .       •••• 

••••    •••• 


cs.mpt'^^^-^^'^""" 


^.^^^^  /^J^€2^^ 


XI. 
UPWAED 


"FATHER,  I   WILL  THAT  THEY  ALSO  WHOM  THOU  HAST  GIVEN  MB,  BE 
WITH  ME   WHERE   I   AM,   THAT   THEY   MAY   BEHOLD  MY   GLORY." 

In  thine  hour  of  agony  Thou  didst  remember 
us,  0  Christ,  and  this  Thy  prayer  shall  be  ful- 
filled !  Ours  shall  be  the  crown,  if  we  worthily 
bear  the  cross.  Light  ineffable  shall  be  ours,  if 
we  struggle  against  the  darkness.  The  house 
Beautiful  shall  be  our  dwelling,  if  we  climb  the 
hill  Difficulty.  And  we  know  the  way,  for  it 
is  upward!  For  this,  too,  we  thank  Thee;  else, 
too  surely,  would  our  gaze  be  downward,  and  our 
hopes  would  fasten  to  the  earth  to  perish  there. 
Thou  didst  go  before  us,  up  those  steep  hill-sides ; 
thy  bleeding  feet  have  trodden  the  paths  of  mor- 
tal anguish ;  and  to  weary  hearts,  thine  own  can. 
throb  responsive,  for  weariness  and  woe  were 
thine,  0  man  of  sorrows !     By  that  name  of  ten- 

(225) 


226  THE  christian's  gift. 

demess,  we  must  remember  thee,  though  thou  art 
now  the  King  of  glory.  Eagerly,  though  wearily, 
we  press  upwards  to  thee,  —  to  thee,  who  shared 
our  sorrows  that  we  might  share  thy  joy ! 

Upward,  upward,  ever  upward ! 

If  we  aught  of  good  would  win, 
—  This  the  law  of  human  progress, — 

Up  —  from  darkness  and  from  sin ! 

Thanks,  O  Jesus  !  for  the  lesson 

Taught  by  thy  heroic  life ! 
Struggling,  suffering,  yet  triumphant, 

Though  with  mortal  pain  and  strife. 

Thus  shall  our  endeavors  crown  us, 

By  thine  aid,  O  dearest  Friend ! 
If  the  sins  that  seek  to  wrong  us, 

From  our  hearts  we  strive  to  rend. 

Strive  we  must,  while  here  abiding, 
Strive,  with  conscience,  or  with  sin. 

Wretched  those  !  who  thee  deriding, 
Choose  the  penalty  to  win. 

Darkness  is  sin's  heavy  wages,  — 

Learn,  my  soul,  thy  foe  to  shun ! 
Upward  toil  to  light  and  glory, 

There  will  rest  and  joy  be  won. 


UPWARD.  227 

Rest ;  though  upward  still  our  motion ! 

"  Wings,  as  eagles,"  strong  will  bear 
Upward  ever, — as  our  spirits 

Purer  glow,  in  heavenly  air. 

Light  and  blessedness  thy  portion ! 

Look,  my  soul !  be  strong  and  free  ; 
Christ  the  weary,  —  Christ  the  victor,  — 

Lo !  stands  there  to  welcome  thee, 

Eliza  W.  Clark. 
EaM  Boston. 


XII. 

THE  GLORY  OF  CHRIST. 


The  incarnation  of  the  Son  of  God  was  tho  ob- 
scuration of  his  glory.  By  assuming  our  nature, 
he  limited  himself,  in  a  great  measure,  to  the  pos- 
sibilities of  human  development.  It  is  true  that 
the  divine  burst  forth  from  the  human  in  his  mir- 
acles, his  teachings,  his  heavenly  virtues.  Still 
the  Sun  of  Kighteousness  was  in  our  moral  firma- 
ment under  an  eclipse.  That  which  was  seen  and 
known  of  the  Saviour  was  to  the  unseen  and  the 
unknown,  what  a  single  ray  of  light  is  to  the 
splendors  of  the  noonday's  sun.  Mankind  were 
not  prepared  to  gaze  upon  the  effulgence  of  his 
being.  Their  organs  of  vision  could  not  have 
endured  the  dazzling  brightness.  In  leaving  there- 
fore his  throne  he  left  behind  him  its  glory,  threw 
aside  his  robes  of  royalty,  and  the  emblems  of  his 

20  (229) 


230  THE  christian's  gift. 

power,  and  stepped  upon  the  theatre  of  human 
action,  in  the  form  of  a  servant.  He  knew  that 
men  needed  to  be  served,  rather  than  to  be  daz- 
zled. He  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to 
minister.  He  sought  not  the  applause  of  men,  he 
simply  asked  for  their  faith.  He  wished  not  to 
excite  admiration,  but  repentance  and  obedience. 

He  felt,  too,  the  incongruity  of  appearing  in  his 
glory  in  a  revolted  province  of  his  father's  empire. 
Here  he  was  among  convicts,  those  over  whose 
heads  hung  the  death  sentence.  In  his  view  sin 
clothed  the  earth  in  sackcloth.  Accustomed  from 
eternity  to  gaze  upon  a  pure  and  holy  kingdom, 
upon  the  beauties  and  splendors  of  celestial 
realms;  accustomed  to  breathe  an  atmosphere 
impregnated  with  the  spirit  of  obedience,  worship, 
and  love,  he  must  have  looked  upon  the  scenes 
around  him  here  with  indescribable  sadness;  and 
he  thought  onl}^  of  repairing  the  evil  which  had 
been  wrought.  He  girded  himself  for  his  great 
work,  rather  than  adorned  himself  for  display. 
As  he  walked  abroad,  he  felt  as  one  would  while 
wandering  amid  the  ruins  of  an  ancient,  wealthy, 
and  magnificent  city.  The  marks  of  skill,  power, 
beauty,  and  grandeur  were  all  around  him.     But 


THE   GLORY   OF    CHRIST.  231 

the  broken  columns,  the  defaced  walls,  and  fallen 
temples,  indicated  that  a  fearful  calamity  had 
passed  over  this  fair  creation.  His  intercourse 
with  mankind  confirmed  his  earliest  impressions 
of  the  extent  of  the  ruin,  the  intensity  of  human 
guilt,  and  the  violence  of  man's  hostility  towards 
his  Maker. 

But  as  his  earthly  career  drew  to  a  close,  and 
he  thought  of  his  home,  of  the  peace  and  serenity 
of  his  father's  empire,  of  the  splendor  of  royal 
palaces,  and  the  thrilling  delights  of  spiritual  wor- 
ship, and  the  adoration  of  unnumbered  millions 
of  holy  subjects,  his  feelings  prompted  him  to  utter 
this  prayer,  "  Father,  I  will  that  they  also  whom 
thou  hast  given  me,  be  with  me  where  I  am ;  that 
they  may  behold  my  glory."  He  did  not  wish  to 
partake  of  these  joys  alone.  He  desired  espe- 
cially that  those  who  had  been  with  him  in  his 
humiliation,  who  had  shared  his  labors,  trials,  and 
sorrows,  should  also  share  in  the  honors  that 
awaited  his  arrival  in  the  kingdom  of  his  Father. 

It  would  be  presumption  in  us  to  attempt  to  de- 
lineate the  elements  and  features  of  this  glory. 
For  how  shall  we  describe  that  which  eye  hath  not 
seen,  nor  ear  heard,  nor  even  the  heart  of  man  con- 


232  THE  christian's  gift. 

ceived?  How  shall  we  scale  those  heights  that 
are  inaccessible  to  the  most  pure,  and  favored,  and 
aspiring  of  the  children  of  men  ?  How  shall  we 
paint  scenes  that  are  far  beyond  the  range  of  hu- 
man vision,  scenes  concerning  which  the  Great 
Teacher  himself  was  silent?  Yet  what  is  more 
natural  to  the  human  intellect  than  the  desire  to 
penetrate  the  future,  to  draw  aside  the  veil  that 
separates  the  invisible  from  the  visible,  to  read 
the  future  of  that  eventful,  endless  life  upon 
which  we  have  entered?  What  do  we  need  more 
than  the  encouragement  and  the  stimulus  that 
come  from  those  far-off  regions  ?  What  will  stir 
our  affections  more  deeply,  and  excite  throughout 
our  moral  nature  a  more  healthy  action,  than  a 
knowledge  of  these  future  glories?  It  is  not  a 
vain  curiosity  that  prompts  the  Christian  to  medi- 
ti'^te  upon  such  a  theme.  It  is  not  an  unhallowed 
ambition  that  inspires  him  with  earnest  desires  to 
obtain,  at  least,  glimpses  of  the  mansions  and 
crowns  that  are  before  the  righteous. 

As  no  full  revelation  has  been  made  to  us  of 
the  elements  of  the  Saviour's  glory,  we  must  learn 
them  through  the  qualities  and  virtues  which  he 
manifested  while  he  was  upon  the  earth.     As  the 


THE   GLORY   OP   CHRIST.  233 

astronomer  is  led  to  form  his  opinions  of  the  ma- 
terial universe  through  the  lights  that  line  the 
coasts  of  these  vast  domains,  so  we  may  form 
opinions  of  the  glory  of  the  Saviour,  through  the 
light  of  those  virtues  that  shone  from  his  charac- 
ter while  he  was  upon  the  earth.  We  believe 
that  Christ  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for- 
ever; the  same  whether  a  preacher  on  the  mount, 
or  a  w^orker  of  miracles,  or  a  sufferer  in  Geth- 
semane,  or  an  advocate  at  the  right  hand  of  the 
Father ;  or  in  his  glory  exalted  far  above  all  prin- 
cipalities and  powers.  And  the  developments  that 
he  makes  of  himself  on  earth,  and  in  heaven,  dif- 
fer not  so  much  in  nature,  as  in  degree.  Here  we 
have  only  the  twilight,  while  in  the  celestial  world 
is  seen  the  full  effulgence  of  his  glory. 

Among  the  elements  of  his  glory  we  might 
specify,  in  the  first  place,  his  holiness.  This  he 
possessed  before  the  foundations  of  the  world  were 
laid.  It  was  a  constituent  part  of  himself,  a  part 
of  his  divine  nature.  United  to  humanity  it  be- 
came developed  in  human  action,  in  a  life  subject 
to  every  variety  of  circumstances,  temptations, 
and  trials.  How  this  union  was  formed,  and  how 
the  divine  acted  upon  and  regulated  the  human 
20* 


234 


nature,  are  questions  that  we  cannot  answer.  It 
is  sufficient  for  us  to  know  that  such  a  union 
did  exist,  and  that  Christ,  though  tempted  in 
all  points  as  we  are,  yet  remained  without  sin. 
According  to  the  Scriptures,  there  was  not  the 
least  taint  of  evil  upon  him.  Every  motive, 
thought,  feeling,  desire,  word,  and  deed  was  pure. 
His  character  was  the  embodiment  of  every  holy 
principle.  His  life  was  the  divine  moral  govern- 
ment in  action.  Every  holy  law,  every  benevo- 
lent principle,  every  heavenly  virtue  was  illus- 
trated in  his  career.  Had  it  been  otherwise,  he 
could  not  have  atoned  for  the  sins  of  the  world. 
To  be  an  acceptable  sacrifice,  he  must  be  a  pure 
sacrifice,  one  without  spot  or  blemish.  The  ac- 
ceptance of  his  sufferings  and  death  by  the  Su- 
preme Sovereign,  instead  of  the  punishment  of 
the  wicked,  was  on  the  ground  of  his  own  perfect 
innocence.  This  gave  force  and  efficacy  to  his 
redemption.  It  also  gave  force  to  his  teachings, 
his  example,  his  whole  life.  It  distinguished  him 
from  all  other  beings  who  had  ever  trod  the  earth. 
It  threw  around  him  a  halo  of  glory. 

From  whatever  stand-point  we  view  the  Mes- 
siah, whether  in  his  relations  to  the  Father,  to 


THE   GLORY    OF    CHRIST.  235 

angels,  or  to  men,  this  attribute  appears  strikingly 
conspicuous.  He  is  spoken  of  as  "  the  image  of 
the  invisible  God,"  as  "the  brightness  of  the 
Father's  glory,  and  the  express  image  of  his 
person."  Of  course  the  resemblance  must  extend 
to  the  holiness  of  the  Deity.  To  remove  all 
doubt  we  are  told  that  "  in  him  dwelleth  all  the 
fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily."  No  attribute,  no 
trait  is  wanting  in  this  manifestation  of  the  Deity. 

It  is  obvious  that  the  Father  could  sanction  no 
worship  except  that  bestowed  upon  an  infinitely 
holy  being.  But  what  was  the  command  issued  at 
the  inauguration  of  the  Messiah's  reign  ?  "  When 
he  bringeth  in  the  first-begotten  into  the  world, 
he  saith.  Let  all  the  angels  of  God  worship  him." 
Very  many  of  the  epithets  bestowed  upon  the 
Saviour  are  expressive  of  this  attribute.  He  is 
called  "  the  light  of  the  world,"  "  the  bright  and 
morning  star,"  "  the  holy  one  of  Israel,"  "  the  holy 
one  of  God." 

But  some  may  doubt  the  propriety  of  institut- 
ing a  comparison  between  the  holy  character  of 
Christ,  and  the  principles  of  mankind,  on  the 
ground  that  he  was  aided  by  his  divine  nature, 
while  man  is  finite,  and  besides  has  a  positively 


236  THE  christian's  gift. 

sinful  nature  to  contend  against.  It  is  true  that 
in  the  character  of  Christ  the  divine  was  united 
to  the  human,  and  necessarily  aided  the  human; 
but  it  is  also  true  that  Christ  had  peculiar  trials 
and  temptations,  such  as  no  mortal  could  fully 
appreciate.  Conscious  of  his  great  mission,  keenly 
sensitive  to  wrong  in  all  its  forms,  his  whole  na- 
ture protesting  against  injustice,  ingratitude,  self- 
ishness, and  every  kind  and  degree  of  human 
wickedness,  he  must  constantly  have  had  his  feel- 
ings outraged.  He  must  have  been  pierced  by  a 
thousand  agonies,  that  would  have  made  little  or 
no  impression  upon  a  less  sensitive  spirit.  When 
we  are  told  that  he  was  "  a  man  of  sorrows,  and 
acquainted  with  grief,"  we  cannot  penetrate  the 
full  meaning  of  these  emphatic  words.  His  fre- 
quent and  earnest  prayers  amid  the  mountains  of 
Judea ;  the  hardness,  stupidity,  and  ingratitude  of 
multitudes  whom  he  labored  to  bless;  the  unbe- 
lief of  those  who  witnessed  his  mighty  works,  his 
tears  and  his  sympathy  with  the  bereaved,  his 
agony  in  the  garden ;  his  deep  consciousness  of 
the  gross  injustice  of  his  trial,  the  bitter  opposi- 
tion and  unrelenting  cruelty  of  the  mob  who 
thirsted  for  his  blood,  all  attest  the  severity  of  his 


THE   GLORY   OF    CHRIST.  237 

trials.  They  show  the  immense  pressure  that  was 
brought  to  bear  against  his  character,  against  his 
holy  principles ;  and  had  there  been  a  flaw  in  this 
character  at  any  point,  it  must,  under  such  a  pres- 
sure, have  given  way.  But  throughout  the  whole, 
not  a  sinful  word  escapes  his  lips,  not  a  malicious 
or  revengeful  thought  towards  his  persecutors  en- 
ters his  mind.  "When  reviled,  he  reviled  not 
again,  when  he  suffered,  he  threatened  not." 
Even  in  his  last  death  agonies,  when  all  nature 
was  convulsed,  when  a  darkened  sky,  rending 
rocks,  and  opening  graves,  bore  witness  to  the 
awful  nature  of  the  tragedy,  there  ascended  to 
heaven  the  touching  prayer,  "Father,  forgive 
them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do."  From  the 
striking  development  of  the  attribute  of  holiness 
in  the  life  of  Jesus,  we  argue  that  it  must  enter 
largely  into  the  future  manifestations  of  his  glory. 
If  it  was  so  conspicuous  upon  this  theatre  of  hu- 
man apostasy,  so  apparent  in  the  various  positions 
in  which  Christ  was  placed,  in  his  intercourse  with 
all  conditions  of  men,  in  the  painful  and  trying 
circumstances  in  which  he  was  often  placed,  how 
much  more  fully  and  gloriously  will  it  be  mani- 
fested upon  a  higher  and  nobler  theatre,  where 


238  THE  christian's  gift. 

there  will  be  nothing  to  obstruct  its  progress,  but 
every  thing  to  call  forth  its  most  brilliant  mani- 
festations !  We  must  believe  that  Christ  desired 
that  his  disciples  might  be  with  him,  in  order  that 
they  might  see  him  glorious  in  holiness.  They 
had  seen  him  under  a  cloud.  They  had  seen  him 
struggling  to  manifest  this  attribute  among  wicked 
men,  who  were  ever  ready  to  suspect  his  motives, 
deny  his  actions,  and  charge  him  with  all  manner 
of  deceit,  but  he  desires  and  prays  that  they 
may  behold  him  amid  the  splendors  of  his  Father's 
kingdom,  behold  him  where  his  presence  will  ex- 
cite the  adoration  and  worship  of  myriads  of  holy 
beings. 

Another  brilliant  star  in  the  constellation  of  his 
virtues  will  be  his  love.  We  have  an  easy  task 
before  us,  to  prove  the  existence  of  this  divine 
attribute  in  the  future  exhibition  of  the  Messiah's 
glory.  All  who  admit  the  bare  fact  that  Christ 
lived,  must  admit  that  this  was  a  conspicuous  trait 
in  his  character.  His  love  is  a  part  of  his  inmost 
nature,  the  substance  and  essence  of  his  being. 
It  enters  into  our  essential  idea  of  a  Saviour. 
It  lies  at  the  foundation  of  the  plan  of  salva- 
tion, —  is  the  material  out  of  which  the  super- 


THE    GLORY    OF    CHRIST.  239 

structure  is  wrought.  It  furnishes  the  columns, 
walls,  and  towers.  It  is  the  glory  of  the  edifice, 
its  light,  beauty,  and  chief  attractions.  Christ 
could  say  emphatically  what  Jehovah  said  to 
Moses  when  he  desired  to  see  his  glory :  "  I  will 
cause  my  goodness  to  pass  before  thee."  From 
the  manger  to  the  grave,  his  life  was  one  ever 
flowing  stream  of  goodness;  or  rather  it  was  a 
rising  tide  of  love  that  reached  its  height,  when  it 
touched  the  summit  of  Mount  Calvary. 

This  attribute  gave  not  only  beauty  and  at- 
tractiveness, but  perfect  symmetry  to  the  charac- 
ter of  the  Saviour.  It  gave  to  every  virtue  its 
proper  proportion  and  just  relations  to  all  the 
rest.  There  is  force  in  the  remark  of  an  able 
writer,  that  "  the  difficulty  which  we  chiefly  feel  in 
dealing  with  the  character  of  Christ,  as  it  unfolded 
itself  before  men,  arises  from  its  absolute  perfec- 
tion. On  this  very  account  it  is  less  fitted  to 
arrest  observation.  A  single  excellence  unusually 
developed,  though  in  the  neighborhood  of  great 
faults,  is  instantly  and  universally  attractive.  Per- 
fect symmetry,  on  the  other  hand,  does  not  star- 
tle, and  is  hidden  from  common  and  casual 
observers.     But  it  is  this  that  belongs  emphati- 


240  THE  christian's  gift. 

cally  to  the  Christ  of  the  gospels ;  and  we  distin- 
guish in  him  at  each  moment  that  precise  mani- 
festation which  is  most  natural  and  most  right.  .  .  . 
In  human  beings,  there  never  is  an  approach  to 
sustained,  proportioned,  and  universal  goodness. 
The  manifestation  in  one  direction  is  so  high  as  to 
be  unnatural,  while  in  another  direction,  it  falls 
perhaps  below  the  standard  of  our  conceptions. 
This  wondrous  Person  always  is,  and  acts  up  to 
the  idea  of  perfect  humanity,  —  never  unnatu- 
rally elevated  so  as  to  be  out  of  fellowship  with 
men,  and  never  below  the  highest  human  excel- 
lence, conceivable  in  the  particular  circumstances 
at  the  time."  How  often  in  distinguished  charac- 
ters among  men,  do  we  find  some  one  virtue  or 
power  conspicuous,  while  others  are  altogether 
wanting.  One  is  ardent  in  the  pursuit  of  a  given 
object,  but  he  lacks  discretion  and  judgment. 
Another  is  tender  and  amiable,  but  he  is  deficient 
in  force  of  character.  Another  cultivates  the 
intellect  to  the  highest  degree,  while  the  affec- 
tions remain  dormant.  But  in  Christ,  all  the  vir- 
tues, human  and  divine,  meet,  forming  a  per- 
fect character.  The  ardor  and  warmth  of  the 
heart  do  not  get  the   better   of   the  judgment. 


THE   GLORY   OF    CHRIST.  241 

His  intense  love  for  man  does  not  go  beyond  the 
bounds  prescribed  by  holiness.  His  infinite  mercy 
never  leads  him  to  forget  that  justice  and  judg- 
ment are  the  habitation  of  God's  throne.  In  his 
intense  and  burning  desire  to  save  the  world,  he 
is  ever  decided  in  insisting  upon  a  strict  conform- 
ity, on  the  part  of  man,  with  the  terms  of  salvar 
tion. 

Besides  this  balance  of  virtues  and  symmetry 
of  character  that  give  force  to  his  benevolence, 
there  is  a  simplicity  and  freshness  about  the 
manifestations  of  his  love,  that  are  calculated  to 
impress  and  win  the  beholder.  These  manifesta-^ 
tions  never  seem  to  be  the  result  of  studied  effort, 
or  carefully  laid  plans.  They  flow  from  Christ  as- 
freely  and  naturally  as  water  flows  from  the 
fountain,  or  light  pours  forth  from  the  sun. 

Now  if  this  element  of  the  Saviour's  character 
was  so  conspicuous  throughout  the  whole  of  his 
earthly  career;  if  it  so  pervaded  him  as  to 
envelop  his  person  in  a  halo  of  glory,  and  caused 
virtue  to  go  forth  even  from  the  hem  of  his  gar- 
ment; if  it  wrought  here  such  achievements 
for  truth  and  righteousness ;   if  it  is  the  element 

21 


242  THE  christian's  gift. 

that  clothes  the  earth  with  beauty,  gives  brigh1> 
ness  to  the  stars,  freshness  to  the  verdure,  loveli- 
ness to  the  landscape,  that  lifts  from  the  soul  its 
clouds  of  gloom,  gives  strength  to  the  weary,  hope 
to  the  despairing,  takes  the  sting  from  death  and 
the  victory  from  the  grave,  will  it  not  enter 
largely  into  the  future  glory  of  the  Saviour? 
Will  not  its  radiance  be  thrown  over  the  cities, 
temples,  and  palaces  of  the  celestial  realms  ?  Will 
it  not  elicit  the  praises  and  worship  of  the  great 
multitude  that  no  man  can  number,  that  with 
palms  in  their  hands  and  crowns  upon  their  heads 
will  participate  in  the  triumphs  of  Christ's  second 
coming  ?  Then,  and  not  till  then,  shall  we  "  be 
able  to  comprehend  with  all  saints,  what  is  the 
breadth  and  length  and  depth  and  height,  and  to 
know  the  love  of  Christ  which  passeth  knowl- 
edge." Then  with  spiritual  organs  of  vision,  with 
enlarged  capacities,  with  hearts  purged  from  all 
sin,  shall  we  be  able  to  gaze  upon  the  "  brightness 
of  the  Father's  glory." 

"  Oh  for  this  love,  let  rocks  and  hills 
Their  lasting  silence  break ; 
And  all  harmonious,  human  tongues, 
The  Saviour's  praises  speak. 


THE    GLORY   OF   CHRIST.  243 

"  Angels,  assist  our  mighty  joys, 
Strike  all  your  harps  of  gold  ! 
But  when  you  raise  your  highest  notes, 
His  love  can  ne'er  be  told." 

The  wisdom  of  Christ  will  also  be  a  bright  gem 
in  his  crown. 

Of  this  attribute,  we  have  glimpses  in  the 
scheme  of  redemption,  in  the  manner  in  which 
Christ  unfolded  divine  truth,  in  his  dealings  with 
the  various  dispositions  and  prejudices  of  men, 
and  in  the  adaptation  of  his  system  to  the  wants 
and  longings  of  the  human  heart.  Indeed,  he  is 
spoken  of  as  one  "in  whom  are  hid  all  the  treas- 
ures of  wisdom."  He  is  called  the  "wisdom  of 
God,"  not  simply  wise,  or  a  striking  manifestation 
of  wisdom,  but  the  very  essence  and  substance  of 
wisdom. 

We  may  well  suppose,  that  an  enterprise  requir- 
ing him  to  take  his  stand  between  the  divine  gov- 
ernment and  human  rebellion,  for  the  purpose 
of  securing  harmony  between  such  antagonistic 
forces,  must  demand  more  than  finite  resources  of 
wisdom.  To  bring  order  out  of  confusion,  loyalty 
out  of  rebellion;  to  satisfy  the  law,  and  at  the 
same  time  secure  the  pardon  of  the  guilty;  to  so 


244 


distribute  and  adjust  the  moral  forces  that  he 
wielded  as  to  maintain  the  authority  of  God,  and 
the  free  agency  of  man,  was  an  undertaking  of 
no  ordinary  character.  It  required  a  degree  of 
wisdom  that  was  capable  of  taking  within  its  wide 
reach,  all  the  interests  of  God's  moral  kingdom, 
and  considering  the  bearing  of  the  atoning  sacri- 
fice upon  every  department  of  the  divine  govern- 
ment. 

But  the  fullest  and  most  glorious  displays  of 
this  attribute,  will  be  made  upon  a  higher  and 
nobler  theatre.  When  the  scheme  of  redemption 
shall  have  wrought  out  its  glorious  results ;  when 
it  shall  have  subdued  the  opposition  of  the  human 
heart,  lifted  the  nations  from  their  degradation 
and  moral  debasement,  and  filled  heaven  with  the 
trophies  of  its  victories,  then  will  be  seen  the  glo- 
ries of  this  wisdom  in  their  brightest  splendors. 
Then  from  myriads  of  grateful  hearts  there  will 
break  forth  the  anthem,  "Worthy  is  the  Lamb 
that  was  slain  to  receive  power,  and  riches,  and 
wisdom,  and  strength,  and  honor,  and  glory,  and 
blessing."  Then  will  the  vast  multitude  of  the 
redeemed,  adore  that  holiness  that  rendered  the 
offering  of  Christ  an  acceptable  sacrifice ;  rejoice 


THE   GLORY    OF   CHRIST.  245 

in  the  infinite  love  that  prompted  the  gift,  and 
worship  that  matchless  wisdom,  which  has  brought 
the  scheme  of  salvation  to  such  a  glorious  con- 
summation. 


THE    GLORY    OF    CHRIST. 

&Y  MBS.   E.  W.   CLARK. 

What  makes  that  glory  shine  so  bright, 
Beyond  e'en  fancy's  boldest  flight  ? 
Why  sweeter  than  all  names  beside, 
Is  that  borne  by  the  Crucified  ? 

Redeemer  !  this  the  name  of  love, 

All  other  titles  far  above  ! 

Angels  with  deepest  awe  were  stirred, 

When  first  that  wondrous  name  was  heard. 

To  altars  shrined  in  holy  prayer, 
Parents  now  bring  with  pious  care 
Babes,  to  receive  a  Christian  name  ; 
(For  such  the  Lord  of  Glory  came). 

And  softly  on  the  tender  brow, 
The  harmless  drops  of  water  flow ; 
A  precious  type  of  purity, 
Which  startles  not  e'en  infancy. 

21* 


246  THE  christian's  gift. 


Baptized  with  other  drops  than  these, 
The  Father,  his  Begotten  sees  ! 
Thorns  pierced,  and  made  a  bloody  chrism, 
This,  the  Redeemer's  sad  baptism ! 


Yet  bright  on  Calvary's  altar  stern, 
A  mystic  light  began  to  burn  ; 
While  by  the  name  thus  meekly  gained, 
Christ's  crowning  glory  was  obtained. 

And  surely  't  is  no  idle  thought 
That  thus  His  noblest  crown  was  bought ! 
The  lesson  here  to  mortals  given. 
Could  only  come  from  highest  heaven. 

Self-sacrifice  !  a  holy  thing, 
With  which  to  tempt  th'  aspiring  wing ! 
Our  souls  may  soar ;  but  steadily 
Our  weary  feet  must  follow  Thee. 

Must  follow  Thee !    The  cross,  the  thorn, 
For  others,  must  be  meekly  borne ; 
Transformed  —  they  '11  seem,  in  heavenly  air, 
Like  crowns,  which  Christ  himself  doth  wear ! 
I&ut  Boston. 


XIII. 

HEAVEN    SPIRITUAL. 

BT  FBOFESSOR  F.   D.   HUNTINGTON,   D.  D. 


It  is  not  more  true  that  "tribulation  and  an- 
guish" impend  over  "every  soul  of  man  that 
doeth  evil,"  and  will  be  his  inevitable  portion, 
than  that  "glory,  honor,  and  peace"  shall  set  their 
crown  on  "  every  man  that  worketh  good."  Both 
are  made  equally  certain,  under  the  authority  of 
the  same  gospel,  and  of  natural  demonstration. 
Both  are  pledged  under  the  general  declaration, 
which  no  believing  Christian  pretends  to  doubt, 
that  "  God  will  render  to  every  man  according  to 
his  deeds." 

About  the  fact  that  the  soul  is  immortal,  there 
can  be  no  argument.  On  that  point,  many  words 
have  been  wasted.     The  simple  truth  is  that  of 

(247) 


248  THE  christian's  gift. 

all  spirit  —  every  spirit  —  life,  continued  life,  eter- 
nal life,  that  is,  immortality,  is  an  inherent  prop- 
erty. To  speak  of  a  soul  not  immortal,  is  really 
a  contradiction  in  terms.  The  only  way  in  which 
we  can  describe  spirit  is,  as  something  indestruc- 
tible, and  eternally  living.  Take  away  its  immortal- 
ity, and  you  take  away  what  makes  it  a  spirit.  Let 
it  cease  to  be  imdying,  and  it  ceases  to  be  a  soul. 
With  earnest  and  righ1>minded  persons,  an  ex- 
istence in  a  future  life  is  a  matter  of  simple  con- 
sciousness, —  it  is  an  interior  conviction,  it-  is  felt 
to  be  a  truth.  Living  under  the  steady  light  of 
Christianity,  it  comes  to  us  without  any  effort  or 
any  searching  for  it  on  our  part.  The  heart 
craves  it,  of  itself,  longs  for  it,  will  not  be  content 
without  it.  You  can  hardly  find  a  man,  or  a  woman, 
or  even  a  child,  of  natural  sensibility,  that  does 
not  assent,  almost  by  an  instinct,  to  this  belief  in 
a  future  life.  And  this  inward  demand  for  it,  is 
peculiarly  vivid  and  strong  under  all  the  trials, 
and  weaknesses,  and  disappointments,  and  bereave- 
ments of  our  mortality,  —  when  this  world  is  least 
satisfying,  its  pleasures  are  least  fascinating,  its 
supports  least  firm,  its  prosperity  and  health  sink- 
ing away  beneath  us.     On  this  very  day,  multi- 


HEAVEN   SPIRITUAL.  249 

tudes  of  faithful  souls,  prisoned  in  weary  bodies, 
lie  panting  on  sick-beds,  or  sit  in  agony  with  some 
secret  sorrow,  or  wander  through  the  desolate 
house  of  mourning,  sustained  in  their  courage  by 
nothing  but  the  hope  of  heaven ;  looking  there 
for  the  only  ray  of  light,  the  only  balm  of  conso- 
lation, the  only  solution  of  the  mystery.  This 
earth  has^  absolutely  nothing,  any  more,  to  com- 
fort, or  interest,  or  strengthen  them.  It  is  not  for 
us  to  play  the  censor  upon  their  anguish.  They 
look  on  to  heaven.  They  wait  and  long,  by 
patient  continuance  in  well-doing,  for  the  moment 
to  come  when  this  mortal  shall  put  on  immortal- 
ity. Thanks  be  to  the  Father  and  his  risen  Son, 
that  they  have  this  sure  refuge  !  It  is  a  safe  con- 
clusion, that  "  God  would  never  launch  so  frail  a 
vessel "  as  this  mortal  life,  "  on  so  stormy  a  sea " 
as  this  mortal  scene,  "  where  the  roll  of  every  wave 
may  wreck  us,  were  it  not  designed  to  float  at 
length  on  serener  waters  and  beneath  gentler 
skies." 

Through  all  the  forms  that  the  belief  in  immor- 
tality has  taken  in  the  history  of  the  world,  and 
the  progress  of  its  ideas,  it  is  easy  to  observe  this 
one  prevailing  law,  that  men's  conceptions  of  a 


250 


future  state,  in  every  period  and  country,  have 
been  exactly  graduated,  according  to  their  present 
culture  and  elevation  in  spiritual  things.  Their 
notion  of  the  life  after  death  has  been  measured 
and  determined  by  their  own  capacity  and  attain- 
ments in  a  spiritual  life  before  death.  As  far  as 
their  philosophy  was  material  and  their  tastes 
were  sensual,  they  here  looked  for  a  material  and 
sensual  paradise.  In  other  words,  they  have  shaped 
their  heaven  by  the  figures  of  their  own  minds, 
and  imagined  celestial  habitations  corresponding 
to  their  present  sense  of  enjoyment  here. 

Perhaps  the  lowest  form  that  this  doctrine  of 
a  continued  existence  after  death  has  assumed,  is 
that  of  the  transmigration  of  the  soul  of  the  dying 
person  into  some  other  person's  body  or  into  some 
animal  on  earth.  This  had  its  origin  with  the 
eastern  nations,  but  has  prevailed  only  to  a  very 
limited  extent,  and  then  in  the  most  rude  and 
barbarous  states  •  of  society.  Apart  from  its  con- 
tradiction of  Scripture,  a  fatal  objection  to  it  is, 
that  it  cuts  off  all  possibility  of  progress,  and  in- 
stead of  carrying  the  spirit  up  to  a  higher  and 
more  glorious  condition  after  its  earthly  discipline 
is  over,  drags  it  back  and  sinks  it  in  the  life  of  a 


HEAVEN   SPIRITUAL.  251 

creature,  only  equal,  perhaps  even  inferior  to 
itself,  thus  making  it  revolve  in  a  circle  of  endless 
change,  but  in  the  same  contracted  compass,  with- 
out enlargement  and  without  advance.  The  prac- 
tice of  embalming  the  dead  among  the  Egyp- 
tians, was  founded  on  the  supposition  that  the  de- 
ceased body  still  contained,  in  some  mysterious 
way,  the  deathless  spark  of  the  spirit,  and  is  thus 
an  evidence  of  the  strength  of  their  belief  in  a 
certain  sort  of  immortality.  A  similar  faith  was 
evinced  on  the  part  of  the  Romans,  by  the  opin- 
ion that  the  souls  of  the  dead  could  never  be  at 
rest  unless  their  bodies  w^ere  buried,  and  that 
without  this  interment,  spirits  must  w^ander  deso- 
late a  hundred  years  on  the  banks  of  the  Styx, 
without  crossing  into  the  realm  of  shades.  Indeed, 
a  certain  vague  theory  of  immortality  was  not 
only  held  by  the  sages  and  philosophers  of  the 
Greek  and  Roman  antiquity,  as  appears  from  Pla- 
to's dialogue,  and  Pindar,  and  Hesiod,  and  Homer, 
and  many  passages  in  the  works  of  Cicero;  but 
the  beautiful  fiction  of  Psyche  shows  that  it  had  a 
place  in  the  popular  mythology,  though  mixed  with 
much  sensuous  imagery.  Such  as  the  men  were, 
and  mortal  life,  such,  on  a  little  larger  scale,  was 


252  THE  christian's  gift. 

the  life  of  the  immortal  gods  of  Olympus,  and  of 
the  departed  in  the  Isles  of  the  Blessed.  The 
traditions  of  the  North  American  savages  drew 
pictures  of  their  far-off  fields  of  Elysium  for  the 
brave,  —  by  transferring  to  those  happy  regions 
the  sports,  the  weapons,  the  food,  and  the  hunting 
grounds  of  the  wilderness,  only  idealized  into 
greater  perfection.  The  Mahometan,  trained  to 
a  passionate  relish  of  oriental  luxuries,  made  his 
paradise  to  consist  in  palaces  of  marble,  robes  of 
silk,  rivers  and  shades,  groves  and  couches,  wines 
and  dainties,  and  all  voluptuous  indolence  and 
entertainment.  As  in  the  other  barbarous  tribes 
and  nations,  warriors  and  destroyers  held  the  first 
title  to  celestial  glory,  and  the  surest  keys  to 
heaven's  gate  were  the  sword  and  spear.  It 
is  written  in  the  Koran,  the  Mahometan  Bible, 
"  truly  God  hath  purchased  of  the  true  believers 
their  souls  and  their  substance,  promising  them 
the  enjoyment  of  paradise  on  condition  that  they 
fight  for  the  cause  of  God." 

Perhaps  there  is  no  better  illustration  of  the 
progress  of  ideas  concerning  the  future  life,  as 
being  precisely  commensurate  with  the  general 
progress  of  mankind  in  knowledge,  civilization, 


HEAVEN  SPIRITUAL.  253 

and  especially  in  a  spiritual  religion,  than  we  find 
in  the  three  great  epic  poems  of  Virgil,  Dante, 
and  Milton,  each  of  them  containing  an  elaborate 
description  of  the  immortal  kingdom.  And  these, 
though  poetic  in  form,  are  only  true  pictures  of  the 
views  prevailing  in  their  several  ages.  Yirgil,  liv- 
ing a  few  years  before  Christ,  represents  the  Pagan 
impressions  of  the  old  heathen  world.  He  por- 
trays both  Tartarus  and  Elysium  under  the 
coarsest  imagery,  introduces  beasts  and  other 
physical  objects,  puts  the  whole  scene  under  the 
ground,  tells  us  expressly  that  those  whose  de- 
light has  been  only  in  arms,  in  fighting,  and  in 
the  rearing  of  horses,  shall  have  the  same  occupa- 
tions provided  for  them  hereafter,  and  appears  to 
have  exhausted  his  finest  apprehension  of  a  spir- 
itual existence,  when  he  states  that  ^neas,  in 
attempting  to  clasp  and  embrace  the  shade  of  his 
departed  father,  Anchises,  whom  he  meets  there, 
finds  that  the  frame  is  of  some  ethereal  substance, 
and  that  his  arms  passed  though  it  as  through 
thin  air,  grasping  nothing. 

Dante  wrote  in  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth 
century,  in  the  twHight  that  followed  the  night  of 
the  dark  ages.     Dante  represents  the  ideas  of  the 

22 


254 


THE   CHRISTIAN  S    GIFT. 


Romisli  cliurch  in  its  palmiest  days.  He  shows  a 
great  advance  beyond  the  Pagan.  He  apprehends 
many  lofty  beauties  of  the  spiritual  world,  and 
even  causes  Beatrice,  his  imaginary  guide  through 
the  celestial  spaces,  to  announce  this  sublime  sen- 
timent, that  "  all  are  blessed,  even  as  their  minds 
descend  deeper  into  the  truth."  He  makes,  how- 
ever, a  materialistic  distribution  of  heaven;  as- 
signing to  each  separate  class  of  spirits  a  planet, 
or  the  sun,  or  the  moon,  in  nine  gradations. 
Though  he  does  not  yield  to  warriors  the  very 
first  place,  like  Virgil  and  Mahomet,  he  exalts 
them  to  the  fifth  heaven,  and  above  some  whose 
virtues  entitle  them  to  a  superior  station.  Un- 
sound Catholic  as  he  was,  he  develops  the  unscrip- 
tural  theory  of  a  purgatory,  and  is  often  triflingly 
fanciful ;  as  where  he  makes  some  of  the  greatest 
souls  of  the  dead  to  contribute,  by  their  lustre,  to 
form  the  brilliancy  of  an  eagle's  eye. 

Milton  is  the  epic  poet  of  Protestantism,  of 
Enghsh  Republicanism,  of  the  era  of  liberty,  both 
in  intellect  and  conscience.  His  emancipated  con- 
ceptions take  a  wider  and  purer  range.  They 
approach  more  nearly  to  the  simple  faith  of  the 
New  Testament.     It  is   true,  he    employs  much 


HEAVEN   SPIRITUAL.  255 

material  imagery  in  his  descriptions  of  heaven, 
and  even  introduces  armies  and  engines  of  destruc- 
tion on  the  celestial  fields.  But  it  is  evident  he 
does  this,  rather  as  a  part  of  the  machinery  of  his 
art,  by  the  license  of  the  poet,  and  not  designing 
it  to  be  understood  otherwise  than  as  an  imag- 
inative presentation  of  the  subject,  than  as  a 
belief  He  rises  to  juster  views  than  either  his 
heathen  or  his  Romish  predecessor.  He  peoples 
the  upper  world  with  angels  and  saints,  whose 
worthy  and  h^uly  holy  office  it  is  to  guard,  watch 
over,  and  bless  their  fellow  spirits  on  earth.  He 
represents  their  employments  as  serving  and  ador- 
ing the  everlasting  God  and  Father,  not  only  by 
voices  of  unmingled  worship,  but  by  noble  deeds 
of  mercy  and  love.  And  he  displays  heaven  as 
the  scene  of  the  boundless  and  infinite  redemp- 
tion of  man's  soul  from  misery  and  sin,  whereby 
he  figures  forth,  in  faint  but  striking  outlines,  the 
actual  doctrine,  and  majestic  import,  of  the  gos- 
pel of  Jesus  Christ. 

So  it  is  with  us  all,  everywhere,  in  common  life, 
as  in  these  three  world-renowned  poets.  Our 
ideas  of  heaven  will  depend  upon  our  knowledge, 
our  spirituality,  our  degree  of  faith  and  obedience. 


256 


He  that  doeth  God's  will,  shall  know  more  and 
more  of  this,  as  of  other  reUgious  doctrines ;  and 
the  more  faithfully  he  does  the  will,  the  more 
clearly  will  he  know  the  doctrine.  Men  will  not 
truly  believe  in  immortality  at  all,  till  their  hearts 
lead  them  to ;  that  is,  till  they  feel  conscious  of 
wants  in  them  that  this  world  will  not  satisfy, 
powers  that  this  world  does  not  exercise,  affections 
which  this  world  cannot  respond  to  nor  recipro- 
cate, a  faith  to  which  this  world  furnishes  no  cor- 
responding reality  as  an  object,  and  an  inward 
capacity  of  action  for  which  these  narrow  bounda- 
ries of  flesh  and  time  are  too  contracted.  When 
they  arrive  at  these  spiritual  convictions,  they 
will  turn  reverently,  and  affectionately,  and  be- 
lievingly,  from  the  world  that  now  is,  to  one  that 
is  infinite,  unconfined  by  any  material  or  earthly 
limitations,  and  everlasting.  Heaven  is  in  fact 
"  needed  to  complete  the  history  of  earth."  Every 
human  soul,  once  fairly  looked  into,  understood 
by  itself,  become  fully  conscious  of  itself,  prophe- 
cies its  own  immortality.  In  this  sense,  at  least, 
the  saying  of  Charles  Lamb  is  unquestionably 
true,  that  "  the  shapings  of  our  heavens  are  the 
modifications  of  our  constitution." 


HEAVEN  SPIRITUAL.  257 

I  would  not  be  supposed  to  decry  every  attempt 
to  set  forth  the  glory  and  the  happiness  of  heaven, 
under  images  drawn  from  these  earthly  scenes, 
and  of  a  material  nature.  Living  as  we  do  in  the 
body,  ministered  to  as  we  are  by  the  senses,  we 
cannot  if  we  w^ould  be  wholly  independent  of  asso- 
ciation with  external  things.  It  is  no  error,  probar 
bly,  in  many  cases,  when  we  carry  over  into  the 
region  of  invisible  life  and  beauty  and  power  be- 
fore us,  such  terms  and  phrases  and  imagery,  as 
have  become  familiar  to  us  while  contemplating 
the  fairest  beauties  of  nature,  —  noble  mountains, 
resplendent  rivers,  green  meadows,  venerable  for- 
ests, and  the  clear  arch  of  the  sky  lighted  by 
God's  sun  and  stars,  or  while  listening  to  the  rich- 
est melody  and  harmony  that  entrance  the  ear, 
and  "  tak€  the  prisoned  soul  and  lap  it  in  Elys- 
ium "  even  while  on  earth.  It  is  for  this  reason 
that  John,  in  that  splendid  drama  and  gorgeous 
vision  of  the  Apocalypse,  from  which  most  of  this 
descriptive  language  has  been  borrowed,  dwells 
on  the  holy  city  descending  from  God,  of  gold 
clear  as  glass,  having  walls  like  jasper,  and  the 
foundations  garnished  with  precious  stones,  and 
the  twelve  gates  twelve  pearls ;  on  the  pure  river 
22* 


258  THE  christian's  gift. 

of  life,  like  crystal,  and  the  living  fountains  of 
waters,  flowing  in  the  midst  thereof;  on  the 
thrones,  and  the  white  raiment,  and  the  palm 
branches,  and  the  harps  of  the  angelic  inhabitants. 
Nor  can  there  be  any  doubt,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  this  mere  poetic  drapery  has  been  made  too 
thick,  so  as  to  hide  the  real  dignity  of  futurity, 
and  cover  up  its  rightful  employments  of  labor 
and  charity  for  substantial  good.  So  great  and 
good  a  man  as  Luther  carried  it  too  far,  when  he 
degraded  the  subject  in  a  mistaken  attempt  to 
hring  it  dotvn  to  the  comprehension  of  his  child, 
telling  him  heaven  was  a  garden  full  of  children, 
who  run  about  eating  fruit  from  the  trees,  and 
amusing  themselves  forever  with  little  horses  hav- 
ing golden  bridles  and  silver  saddles,  and  with 
drums  and  crossbows.  Children  are  wronged  by 
such  mistaken  condescensions.  They  understand 
spiritual  things  rightly  and  simply  presented,  quite 
as  naturally,  and  hearken  to  them  as  readily,  as 
sensual  things.  And  it  is  so  with  grown  persons, 
older  children.  One  of  our  commonest  errors  is 
to  think  of  heaven  as  a  place  of  passive  repose, 
idle  enjoyment,  fruitless  inaction,  doing  nothing. 
But  the  truth  is,  must  be,  that  as  in  this  world  so 


HEAVEN   SPIRITUAL.  259 

in  the  next,  work,  noble  and  generous  and  merci- 
ful Avork,  efficient,  spiritual  work  for  God  and 
other  spirits,  will  be  the  highest  honor  and  the 
richest  satisfaction. 

One  circumstance  in  reference  to  the  scriptural 
language  ought  to  be  carefully  noted;  that  al- 
though it  employs  figurative  terms,  it  employs 
them  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  it  evident  they 
are  not  intended  to  be  any  thing  but  figura- 
tive, and  only  to  suggest  glowing  thoughts,  and 
excite  our  sluggish  and  feeble  conceptions.  Thus 
these  figures  of  speech  vary  from  each  other ;  the 
metaphors  and  descriptions  are  entirely  different ; 
in  one  place  heaven  is  a  "  city,"  and  in  another 
a  "  garden ; "  in  one  place  a  "  life,"  and  in  another 
a  "treasure,"  which  neither  moth  nor  rust  can 
corrupt;  sometimes,  a  "crown  of  glory,"  and  at 
others  an  "inheritance,"  incorruptible  and  unde- 
filed ;  sometimes  a  "  kingdom  "  which  shall  never 
be  moved,  and  sometimes  a  "  house "  of  many 
mansions,  —  a  "  building  not  made  with  hands ; " 
all  these  varieties  and  discrepancies  of  expression 
showing  that  neither  of  them  is  literal,  but  that 
all  only  faithfully  symbolize  some  great  good, 
some  infinite  and  inexpressible  beatitude.     And 


260 


that  is  not  of  the  earth,  earthy,  but  of  the  spirit, 
spiritual. 

And  then  there  is  a  class  of  much  more  signifi- 
cant and  sublime  declarations,  which  point  us  more 
directly  to  this  spiritual  estate,  especially  those  of 
Jesus  himself,  as  where  he  says,  "  This  is  life  eter- 
nal, that  they  might  know  thee,  the  only  true 
God,  and  Jesus  Christ  whom  thou  hast  sent."  "  I 
am  the  resurrection  and  the  life."  "  Whosoever 
believeth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall 
he  live ;  and  whoso  liveth  and  believeth  in  me, 
shall  never  die." 

What,  then,  shall  be  our  idea  of  heaven,  —  that 
heaven  of  which  w^e  all  speak,  for  which  we 
all  pray,  to  which  w^e  all  look  forward  with  long- 
ings more  or  less  distinct,  and  earnestly  desiring 
to  be  admitted  into  its  great  joy  ?  What  is 
heaven  to  us?  Obviously  much  must  remain 
obscure  and  unknown.  It  would  seem  that  it  was 
God's  will  and  good  design,  even  in  the  revela- 
tion of  his  son,  to  leave  much  uncertain,  much 
room  for  faith  as  well  as  knowledge,  granting  us 
enough  to  sustain  and  encourage  us,  enough  for 
faith  to  live  upon,  yet  reserving  many  things  to 
be   revealed    hereafter,   and  whose  very   revela- 


HEAVEN   SPIRITUAL.  261 

tion  hereafter  shall  form  a  part  of  the  heavenly 
glory. 

Still  there  are  some  things  which  we  are  per- 
mitted, even  here,  in  these  mortal  valleys,  to  see ; 
some  conclusions  at  which  we  may  reasonably  ar- 
rive, guided  by  the  light  within  and  the  light  from 
the  gospel,  and  these  are  full  of  the  holiest  inter- 
est to  us,  in  our  trial,  and  discipline,  and  expec- 
tation. 

There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  future 
life  of  the  soul  will  correspond  to  its  laws  and  its 
nature  here.  There  will  be  no  violent  revolution, 
no  sudden  transformation  of  us.  When  the  body 
drops  off,  the  spirit  will  remain  essentially  the 
same.  As  we  lie  down  to  our  sleep,  we  shall 
awake  and  arise.  What  we  have  sown,  we  shall 
reap.  At  the  same  time,  the  spirits  of  the  right- 
eous shall  find  themselves  clothed  with  new  pow- 
ers, possessed  of  enlarged  resources,  participating 
in  loftier  pleasures.  If  you  delight  in  goodness 
here,  —  good  deeds,  quickening  words,  elevating 
thoughts, — you  will  find  a  deeper  relish  for  them, 
and  an  unexhausted  abundance  of  them  thronging 
upon  you,  and  shedding  their  benedictions  on  you, 
from  every  side,  hereafter.     If  only  truth  satisfies 


262  THE  christian's  gift. 

you  on  earth,  you  will  have  it  common  and  plen- 
teous as  the  air,  and  will  breathe  it  in  unceasingly 
in  heaven.  If  you  have  sought  and  striven  for 
the  cause  of  freedom,  and  in  the  spirit  of  love,  in 
these  human  habitations,  you  shall  enter  on  an 
unbounded  liberty,  and  a  love  whose  flowing  tide 
no  hand  can  measure  or  resist,  above. 

It  will  be  a  place  of  greater  knowledge.  If  we 
know  any  thing  of  the  laws  of  the  mind,  it  must 
make  infinite  advances  in  the  scope  of  its  under 
standing,  in  the  strength  of  its  reason,  in  the  en- 
ergy of  its  will,  in  the  quickness  and  clearness  of 
its  memory,  and  the  soaring  flights  of  its  imagina- 
tion. Nor  will  that  progress  in  intellectual  ac- 
quirements be  the  slow,  painful,  hesitating,  creep- 
ing, and  often  baflled  march  that  it  is  always,  at 
best,  on  earth,  but  it  will  spring  suddenly  onward, 
and  swiftly  upward,  by  long  and  rapid  stages,  and 
from  height  to  height,  penetrating  the  profound 
secrets  and  hidden  mysteries  of  the  universe. 
The  scales  that  cover  these  mortal  eyes  will  drop ; 
blindness  will  give  place  to  vision ;  what  is  deep 
science  and  masterly  erudition,  for  the  most  pa- 
tient and  investigating  minds  here,  earned  only  by 
gigantic  studies,  will  there  become  but  the  spirit's 


HEAVEN   SPIRITUAL.  263 

easy  alphabet,  or  simplest  instinct,  under  the  im- 
mediate tuition  of  the  skies.  Clothed  upon  with 
that  unearthly  tabernacle,  our  every  perception 
will  be  quickened  and  cleansed;  perhaps  new 
senses,  spiritual  organs,  will  be  added  to  us,  opening 
spheres  of  insight  undreamed  of  in  this  life,  and 
remarkable  as  those  the  sense  of  sight  gives  us 
cognizance  of  here.  Judgment  will  be  less  falli- 
ble ;  taste  will  be  refined ;  assurance  will  be  con- 
firmed; doubts  will  disappear;  clouds  will  roll  off; 
obscurity  will  give  place  to  light.  The  breaking 
forth  of  the  splendors  and  glories  of  the  celestial 
world  on  the  ascended  soul,  at  its  resurrection, 
will  be  a  surprise  and  a  rapture,  faintly  illustrated 
by  the  burst  of  a  sudden  sunrise  amidst  the  rich- 
est scenery  of  nature,  on  men  groping  and  stum- 
bling, bewildered  in  utter  darkness.  "Now,"  in 
the  firm  language  of  the  apostle,  "now  we'  see 
through  a  glass  darkly,  but  then  face  to  face; 
now  we  know  in  part,  but  then  shall  we  know 
even  as  we  are  known." 

The  justified  and  pure  soul,  accepted  of  God, 
will  receive  fresh  accessions,  not  only  of  knowl- 
edge, but  of  goodness ;  not  only  of  wisdom,  but  of 
holiness.     It  is  something  to  be  delivered  from 


264  THE  christian's  gift. 

the  body,  its  infirmities  and  sicknesses  and  pains, 
but  far  more  to  be  delivered  from  moral  and  spir- 
itual ills.  The  petty  trials  and  vexations  that  be- 
set and  perplex  us  in  our  intercourse  with  men, 
will  harass  us  no  longer  in  the  society  of  the  re- 
deemed. A  power,  unfelt  before,  of  conquering 
evil,  will  be  supplied  to  us.  There  will  not  be 
that  sad  halting  and  mortifying  failure  between 
our  resolves  and  our  execution  of  them,  our  pur- 
poses and  our  deeds,  which  so  humiliate  us  now. 
We  may  go  straight  from  the  holy  desire  to  the 
beneficent  fulfilment,  and  do  all  things  after  the 
pattern  shown  us  in  the  mount.  Love,  and  charity, 
and  mercy  shall  possess  us,  not  in  their  present 
meagre  and  stinted  measure,  but  in  full  and  free 
abundance.  Our  feet  shall  run  with  readier  will- 
ingness, and  our  whole  being  move  with  more 
concordant  and  harmonious  determinations,  to  all 
benignant  ministries  of  good.  Every  encourage- 
ment, and  assistance,  and  support  will  be  extended 
to  us  in  this  goodness.  For  excellence  in  its  most 
exalted,  attractive,  and  beautiful  forms  will  pre- 
vail around  us.  Its  celestial  images  will  pass  con- 
tinually before  our  eyes.  "Weakness  of  principle, 
temptation  to  sin,  sensual  passion,  dread  of  falling 


HEAVEN   SPIRITUAL.  265 

from  virtue,  and  all  the  untold  miseries  that  wait 
upon  them  will  cease.  The  sorrows,  the  sufferings, 
the  hardships,  the  poverty,  the  disappointments, 
the  bereavements,  the  alienations,  misunderstand- 
ings, broken  friendships,  lost  fellowships,  departures 
of  those  we  love  from  the  way  of  rectitude,  —  all 
these  will  be  forgotten,  or,  if  remembered  at  all, 
soon  lost  and  swallowed  up  in  the  infinite  joy  of 
salvation,  the  great  fruition  of  blessedness,  in 
boundless  trust  in  the  Father.  Vision  will  take 
the  place  of  faith ;  sight  will  be  the  substitute  for 
hope;  there  will  be  less  of  the  spirit  of  mere 
obedience  than  of  earnest  affection ;  duty  will  be 
not  a  task  but  a  delight;  there  will  be  no  fear,  but 
love,  because  perfect  love  casteth  out  fear ;  there 
will  be  unbroken  peace.  And  above  all,  our  com- 
pletest  bliss  shall  be  that  there  is  w  sin  there.  All 
its  wretched  plottings,  its  defilement,  its  confusion, 
its  discord,  its  torture  of  remorse,  will  have  van- 
ished forever  in  that  serener  chmate,  under  the 
holy  light  of  that  sun  of  perfect  righteousness  that 
rises  with  healing  in  his  beams. 

What  the  employments  of  the  future  world  will 
be,  we  have  only  imperfect  means  of  conceiving.. 
It  is  enough  that  we  are  sure  they  will  surpass  all. 

23 


266  THE  christian's  gift. 

our  present  honors,  and  transcend  our  best  mortal 
experience.  Doubtless  our  highest  imaginings 
and  finest  fancies,  such  as  spring  up  in  our  best 
moments,  when  we  are  in  sohtude,  in  devout  med- 
itation, all  the  visions  of  childhood,  dreams  of 
youth,  midnight  musings,  reveries  of  the  mind  in 
its  most  reverent  and  thoughtful  moods,  do  pre- 
figure and  prophesy  our  future  being,  a  state 
where  all  that  is  truly  bright  and  beautiful  and 
desirable  in  them  will  be  realized.  There  we  shall 
be  drawn  into  a  more  efficient  and  faithful  service 
of  our  God,  having  not  only  a  clearer  revelation 
of  his  perfections,  a  truer  knowledge  of  his  char- 
acter, but  a  nobler  power  of  obeying  his  will,  ex- 
ecuting his  commands,  discharging  his  errands,  and 
trusting  him  as  our  Father.  There  we  shall  be 
permitted  to  attain  a  more  entire  discipleship  to 
Jesus  Christ,  enter  more  intimately  into  his  soci- 
ety and  the  fellowship  of  his  spirit,  sit  more  nearly 
at  his  feet,  gain  a  new  comprehension  of  his  divine 
motives  and  principles,  rendering  him  a  more  de- 
voted allegiance  and  a  more  loyal  fidelity  than  we 
ever  arrive  at  in  our  mortality.  There,  too,  we 
shall  probably  be  able  to  do  more  than  we  yet 
know  for  those  that  we  leave  behind  us  on  earth, 


HEAVEN   SPIRITUAL.  267 

the  kindred  and  friends  that  we  have  loved  and 
parted  from.  Just  as  one  leaving  his  home  for  a 
distant  land  looks  forward,  and  is  consoled,  at  part- 
ing, by  the  prospect  of  being  able  to  send  back 
gifts  and  information,  and  perhaps  support,  to 
those  that  remain,  so  we  are  allowed  to  hope  that 
we  shall  be  sent  on  ministrations  of  guardianship 
and  blessing,  to  watch  over  beloved  hearts,  and 
bestow  spiritual  help  upon  their  lives,  when  we 
have  passed  into  heaven.  There,  too,  the  spirits 
of  the  just  made  perfect  will  perform  sacred  and 
tender  offices  towards  each  other,  and  the  celestial 
mansions  will  be  gladdened  and  adorned  with  the 
mutual  sympathy  and  interest  of  fellow  immortals. 
For,  finally,  there  is  abundant  cause  to  believe 
that  heaven  shall  be  a  social  state,  —  that  holy 
companionships  and  blessed  affections  shall  fill  up 
the  circle  of  its  endless  hours.  What  beings  shall 
unite  there,  and  what  meetings  there  will  be ! 
You  wdll  see  God  as  he  is,  and  receive  the  direct 
manifestations  of  his  Deity.  You  shall  see  Jesus 
as  he  is,  and  converse  with  him,  as  man  speaketh 
with  his  friend.  You  shall  hold  communion  with 
"  the  spirits  of  your  fathers,  with  patriarchs  of  the 
ancient  world,  with  prophets  and  sages  of  other 


268 


days,  with  all  the  mighty  host  which  has  trodden 
the  earth  and  slept  in  its  bosom."  There,  unless 
all  the  dear  presentiments  of  our  being  have  con- 
spired to  deceive  us,  the  faithful  will  receive  the 
greetings  of  souls  that  they  have  been  suffered  to 
bless,  and  will  rejoin  the  sundered  ties,  and  regather 
the  broken  links,  and  reclasp  the  sundered  aflfec- 
tions,  that  were  suspended  by  the  grave. 

"  The  parent  finds  the  long  lost  child, 
Brothers  on  brothers  gaze ; 
Congenial  minds  arrayed  in  light, 

High  thoughts  shall  interchange, 
Nor  cease,  with  ever-new  delight 
On  wings  of  love  to  range." 

The  love  that  had  but  begun  to  bind  two  hearts 
together  here,  when  one  of  them  ceased  to  beat 
and  left  the  other  to  throb  on  in  the  quickened 
beat  of  agonized  bereavement,  shall  there  be  re- 
kindled and  burn  forever,  where  they  go  no  more 
out,  in  the  gardens,  unlike  that  of  Joseph,  where 
no  sepulchres  are,  and  where  separations  are  un- 
known. This  faith  the  Scripture  countenances, 
for  it  speaks  always  in  language  that  implies  that 
the  future  is  a  social  condition,  —  of  the  great  con- 
gregaihn  of  the  purified,  of  the  cwnpany  of  angels, 


HEAVEN   SPIRITUAL.  209 

of  the  assembly  of  saints.  And  if  no  other  in- 
struction taught  it  to  us,  the  indestructible  instincts 
that  God  has  planted  in  our  hearts  will  so  root  it 
in  our  Christian  confidence,  that  not  all  the  scep- 
ticism of  incredulous  worldliness  or  impiety  has 
power  to  pluck  it  away. 

It  has  been  the  happy  belief  of  the  purest  and 
greatest  spirits,  from  the  beginning  of  time,  sanc- 
tioned by  the  providence  of  God,  that  a  period  is 
to  come,  even  on  this  earth,  of  indescribable  bles- 
sedness and  glory.  It  is  this  millennial  hope  that 
has  inspired  all  prophets,  from  the  rapt  imagina- 
tion of  Isaiah  to  the  humblest  Christian  of  to-day ; 
the  hope  of  a  time  when  the  world  shall  be 

"  Much  better  visibly,  and  when,  as  far 
As  social  life  and  its  relations  tend, 
Men,  morals,  manners,  shall  be  lifted  up, 
To  a  pure  height  we  know  not  o£,  nor  dream ; 
When  all  men's  rights  and  duties  shall  be  clear, 
And  charitably  exercised  and  borne ; 
When  education,  conscience,  and  good  deeds 
Shall  have  just,  equal  sway,  and  civil  claims  ; 
Great  crimes  shall  be  cast  out,  as  were  of  old 
Devils  possessing  madmen  :  Truth  shall  reign. 
Nature  shall  be  rethroned,  and  man  sublimed." 

And  the  only  regret  that  has  marred  the  joy  of 
23* 


270  THE  christian's  gift. 

this  great  and  glorious  expectancy,  has  been,  with 
each,  that  "  we  may  not  live  to  see  the  day."  But 
what  if  it  be  so  ?  Though  we  do  not  live  to  see 
it  on  the  earth,  we  shall  Hve  again,  beyond  and 
above  earth,  and  then  we  shall  certainly  see  it,  see 
it  as  no  prophet  has  yet  foretold  it. 

Let  us  remember  that  there  is  a  condition  im- 
posed by  which  only  we  can  enter  into  that  king- 
dom. It  is  only  they  who  sow  to  the  spirit,  in 
their  hearts,  that  shall  reap  life  everlasting. 


0,  TALK  TO   ME   OF  HEAVEN.  271 


0,  TALK   TO   ME   OF   HEAVEN. 

BOWLES. 

O,  TALK  to  me  of  heaven !   I  love 
To  hear  about  my  home  above ; 
For  there  doth  many  a  loved  one  dwell 
In  light  and  joy  ineflfable. 
O,  tell  me  how  they  shine  and  sing, 
While  every  harp  rings  echoing ; 
And  every  glad  and  tearless  eye 
Beams,  like  the  bright  sun,  gloriously. 
Tell  me  of  that  victorious  palm, 

Each  hand  in  glory  beareth, 
Tell  me  of  that  celestial  calm 

Each  face  in  glory  weareth. 

O,  happy,  happy  country,  where 

There  entereth  not  a  sin ; 
And  death,  who  keeps  its  portals  fair. 

May  never  once  come  in. 
No  grief  can  change  their  day  to  night ; 
The  darkness  of  that  land  is  light ; 
Sorrow  and  sighing  God  hath  sent 
From  thence  to  endless  banishment ; 
And  never  more  may  one  dark  tear 

Bedim  their  burning  eyes ; 
For  every  one  they  shed  while  here 

In  fearful  agonies. 


272  THE  christian's  gift. 

Glitters  a  bright  and  dazzling  gem 
In  their  immortal  diadem. 

0  lovely,  blooming  country !  there 
Flourishes  all  that  we  deem  fair ; 
And  though  no  fields  nor  forests  green, 
Nor  bowery  gardens,  there  are  seen, 

Nor  perfumes  load  the  breeze, 
Nor  hears  the  ear  material  sound. 
Yet  joys  at  God's  right  hand  are  found. 

The  archetypes  of  these. 
There  is  the  home,  the  land  of  birth 
Of  all  we  highest  prize  on  earth  ; 
The  storms  that  rack  this  world  beneath 

Must  there  forever  cease  ; 
The  only  air  the  blessed  breathe 

Is  purity  and  peace. 

O,  happy,  happy  land  !  in  thee 

Shines  the  unveiled  Divinity, 

Shedding  through  each  adoring  breast 

A  holy  calm,  a  halcyon  rest. 

And  those  blest  souls  whom  death  did  sever, 

Have  met  to  mingle  joys  forever. 

0  soon  may  heaven  unclose  to  me ! 

O,  may  I  soon  that  glory  see ; 

And  my  faint,  weary  spirit  stand 

Within  that  happy,  happy  land  ! 


THE   LAND    WHICH   NO    MORTAL    ^UY   KNOW.      273 


"THE    LAND    WHICH   NO    MORTAL   MAY  KNOW." 

BY  BERNARD  BARTON. 

Though  Earth  has  full  many  a  beautiful  spot, 

As  a  poet  or  painter  might  show ; 
Yet  more  lovely  and  beautiful,  holy  and  bright, 
To  the  hopes  of  the  heart,  and  spirit's  glad  sight, 

Is  the  land  that  no  mortal  may  know. 

There  the  crystalline  stream,  burst  forth  from  the  Throne, 

Flows  on,  and  forever  will  flow ; 
Its  waves,  as  they  roll,  are  with  melody  rife. 
And  its  waters  are  sparkling  with  beauty  and  life, 
In  the  land  which  no  mortal  may  know. 

And  there,  on  its  margin,  with  leaves  ever  green. 

With  its  fruits  healing  sickness  and  wo. 
The  fair  tree  of  life !  in  its  glory  and  pride. 
Is  fed  by  the  deep,  inexhaustible  tide, 

On  the  land  which  no  mortal  may  know. 

There,  too,  are  the  lost!  whom  we  loved  on  this  earth. 

With  those  memories  our  bosoms  yet  glow ; 
Their  relics  we  gave  to  the  place  of  the  dead, 
But  their  glorified  spirits  before  us  have  fled 
To  the  land  which  no  mortal  may  know. 


274  THE  christian's  gift. 

There  the  pale  orb  of  Night,  and  the  fountain  of  Day, 

Nor  beauty  nor  splendor  bestow ; 
But  the  presence  of  Him,  the  unchanging  I  AM ! 
And  the  holy,  the  pure,  the  immaculate  Lamb ! 

Light  the  land  which  no  mortal  may  know. 

Oh !  who  but  must  pine  in  this  dark  vale  of  tears. 

From  its  clouds  and  its  shadows  to  go, 
To  walk  in  the  light  of  the  glory  above, 
And  to  share  in  the  peace,  and  the  joy,  and  the  love, 
Of  the  land  which  no  mortal  may  know. 


■4 


o/aZ^^  ^^  ^2^,  .^/^(i^^ii^:^/^  ^77^^  o^^^WTZyMTmy 


oy^Tci^  ^. 


?ev,Ch.XXI,T5. 


XIV. 

HEAVEN  CONCEIVABLE  ONLY  TO  THE 
CHRISTIAN. 

BY   REV.   ALEXANDER   H.   VINTON,   D.  D. 


The  great  blessings  of  redemption  surpassing 
all  human  experience  and  even  outreaching  the 
power  of  thought,  are  forcibly  expressed  in  the 
words  of  the  apostle  Paul,  quoted  from  the  prophecy 
of  Isaiah,  "  Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  nei- 
ther have  entered  the  heart  of  man  the  things 
which  God  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love  him. 
But  God  hath  revealed  them  unto  us  by  his  spirit." 
In  addressing  the  Corinthians  the  writer  brought 
to  light  mysteries  of  wisdom  and  mercy,  which 
the  best  endowed  of  men  had  never  understood. 
A  method  of  salvation  for  the  sinful  had  been  the 
object  of  blind  longing  to  all  the  world,  because 
salvation  was  the  world's  great  want. 

(275) 


276 


Yet  men  thus  pined  for  a  gift  of  whose  meas- 
ure and  quahty  they  were  ignorant.  The  apostle 
is  speaking  primarily  of  salvation  as  a  proof  of 
divine  wisdom,  but  there  can  be  no  impropriety 
in  extending  his  remark,  to  embrace  the  fruits  of 
that  plan  as  it  shall  be  developed  in  heaven.  Not 
only,  therefore,  does  the  wisdom  of  the  plan  of 
redemption  surpass  the  conceptions  of  human  wis- 
dom, but  the  joys  of  a  finished  salvation  will  be 
superior  to  all  that  eye  hath  ever  seen,  ear  ever 
heard,  or  hath  ever  entered  into  the  heart  of  man. 

Every  person  has  probably  formed  to  himself 
an  idea  of  heaven,  for  every  creature  loves  happi- 
ness, and  it  is  impossible  that  any  thinking  being 
should  not,  at  times,  endeavor  to  conceive  of  some- 
thing like  happiness  in  its  perfection.  Now  when 
we  look  upon  mankind  and  witness  the  different 
enjoyments  that  are  preferred  by  one  and  another, 
we  must  conclude  that  their  views  of  heaven  are 
no  less  diverse.  Immortal  felicity  would  be  to 
each  man  the  perfection  of  his  own  chosen  indul- 
gence. Even  the  besotted  mind  of  the  sensualist 
dreams  delightedly  of  a  state  in  which  his  lust 
shall  have  no  pause  and  no  satiety,  —  in  which 
passion's  gloating  eye  shall  only  lead  the  way  to 


HEAVEN    CONCEIVABLE    ONLY   TO    THE   CHRISTIAN.     277 

fiure  and  eternal  indulgence.  And  this  is  his 
heaven,  —  the  paradise  of  Mahomet,  and  lust's 
long  carnival.  And  every  other  form  of  human 
desire  instinctively  hopes  for  a  state  in  which  that 
desire  shall  find  its  full  gratification,  and  reahze 
its  heaven. 

It  cannot  be  that  such  different  ideas  of  God's 
felicity  can  all  be  true,  and  with  the  Bible  open 
before   us,  we   cannot   doubt   that  they   are   all 
equally  false.     We  know  that  nothing  that  defil- 
eth,  or  is  imclean,  shall  ever  enter  the  presence  of 
God.     We  know  that  the  heaven  of  ambition,  of 
avarice,  of  pride,  of  vanity,  of  fashion,  of  every 
selfish  passion,  must  be  the  hateful  opposite  of 
that  heaven  where   God   reigns  supreme  in   his- 
holiness.     The  eye,  the  ear,  th^  heart,  and  mind 
of  the  unsanctified,  are  all  strangers  to  the  true 
idea   of  the   heaven   of  the   Bible.     But   to   ther 
Christian,  the  bliss  of  immortality  is  not  strange^, 
because  God  hath  revealed  it  to  him  by  his  Spirit. 

I  do  not  mean  by  this  that  even  the  most  ad- 
vanced Christian  can  fully  comprehend  the  extent 
of  that  glorious  felicity  which  God  hath  prepared 
for  them  that  love  him,  —  for  this  he  has  never  ex- 
perienced either  with  eye,  or  ear,  or  mind.  But  the- 
24 


278  THE  christian's  gift. 

ncdure  of  heavenly  happiness  every  regenerated 
child  of  God  can  understand,  because  his  new 
heart  has  already  taught  him,  in  the  sweet  com- 
munion of  divine  things,  which  is  but  the  foretaste 
of  immortal  bliss. 

The  difference  between  the  Christian's  concep- 
tion of  heaven  and  that  of  the  unrenewed,  is  a 
difference  in  kind.  He  knows  what  heaven  is, 
though  he  knows  not  how  great  and  overwhelm- 
ing is  its  joy ;  but  the  unconverted  soul  is  wrong 
in  its  first  conception  of  immortal  haj)piness.  His 
hopes  and  his  trusts  are  a  fatal  falsehood  from 
beginning  to  end. 

Let  us  contemplate  some  of  the  elements  of 
that  joy  which  will  constitute  the  inheritance  of 
all  the  saved.  They  are  set  forth  in  Scripture 
with  various  degrees  of  prominence,  and  however 
presented,  they  are  suited  to  some  one  or  other,  of 
the  various  wants  of  the  soul. 

The  first  and  most  obvious  is  the  idea  of  rest. 
The  earnest  invitation  of  the  Saviour  was,  "  Come 
unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden, 
and  I  will  give  you  rest ; "  and  the  prophetic  de- 
scription of  heaven  is  of  a  place  "  where  the  wicked 
cease  from  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at  rest." 


HEAVEN    CONCEIVABLE    ONLY    TO    THE    CHRISTIAN.      279 

Could  a  single  word  he  found  that  should  com- 
prehend such  forceful  meaning  to  the  majority  of 
our  great  family  ?  Toil  and  weariness  of  flesh  and 
soul,  are  a  part  of  the  primeval  curse.  There  is 
no  human  being  who  does  not  groan  with  the 
burden  of  life  if  he  live  long  enough  to  know 
what  life  really  is.  Nay,  the  apostle  by  a  strong 
figure  of  personification,  represents  the  inanimate 
creation  as  groaning  with  the  burden  of  its  con- 
stant trouble  and  confusion,  and  longing  for  a  de- 
liverance. The  whole  creation  groan eth  and  trav- 
aileth  together  with  the  bondage  of  corruption. 
Who  that  has  waded  only  half  across  the  stream 
of  human  life  has  not  found  himself  buffeted  by 
some  wave  of  trouble,  hindered  by  some  rock  of 
difficulty,  mired  in  some  hopeless  undertaking 
that  foiled  all  his  labors,  until  he  has  been  ready 
to  wish,  either  that  he  were  well  across  the 
stream,  or  that  he  had  never  been  forced  to 
begin  the  passage  ;  lamenting  the  day  of  his  birth, 
and  almost  ready  to  anticipate  his  death,  were  it 
not  for  the  dark  hereafter  that  imbosoms  his  des- 
tiny? What  a  large  proportion  of  mankind  are 
doomed  to  the  mere  unthinking  toil  of  bone 
and  muscle,  whose  disappointed  longing,  morning 


280  THE  christian's  gift. 

and  evening,  is  for  simple  rest.  How  many  in  a 
better  sphere  of  life  have  wrestled  with  agonies 
of  soul  and  mind  worse  than  the  weariness  of  the 
flesh,  till  the  very  pith  of  life's  enjoyment  was 
exhausted,  and  they  looked  upon  any  change  as 
a  blessing  because  it  brought  repose.  Indeed, 
■although  God  has  tempered  the  severity  of  the 
first  curse  of  man,  and  has  given  to  labor  many 
an  incitement  and  many  a  reward ;  there  are  very 
few  of  human  kind  to  whom  a  state  of  perfect 
rest  would  not  be  the  heaven  of  their  wishes; 
for  "  all  things,"  says  the  sacred  preacher,  "  are  full 
of  labor  —  man  cannot  utter  it."  Hence  the  great 
blessedness  of  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord ;  even 
so  saith  the  spirit,  for  they  rest  from  their  labors. 
It  is,  therefore,  one  of  the  chief  elements  of  a 
Christian's  hope  and  joy,  that  there  remaineth  a 
rest  for  the  people  of  God.  Not  indeed  that  he 
cannot  bear  his  labors  here  with  a  steady  mind, 
for  he  can  endure  all  things,  through  Christ 
strengthening  him.  And  not  that  he  looks  for- 
ward to  a  drowsy  and  voluptuous  indolence,  in 
which  his  soul  shall  rest  eternally,  without  energy 
or  vigor  or  enterprise,  fanned  by  soft  airs,  fed 
with  sweet  odors,  and  soothed  by  dreamy  melo- 


HEAVEN    CONCEIVABLE    ONLY    TO    THE    CHRISTIAN.    281 

dies.  This  is  the  rest  of  the  sensualist.  But  the 
repose  of  heaven  comes  from  that  exhaustless 
vigor  which  is  superior  to  fatigue ;  which  knows 
not  the  meaning  of  the  word  toil,  and  to  which 
ceaseless  activity  is  only  the  exhilarating  con- 
sciousness of  being  immortal.  It  is  the  repose 
of  great  power,  always  calm  and  unperturbed, 
hailing  each  new  enterprise,  and  remembering  all 
its  former  weariness  only  to  rejoice  the  more  in 
the  perfect  rest  of  its  sufficiency.  And  the  beauty 
and  excellency  of  this  rest  is,  that  it  is  prepared 
for  those  w^ho  love  God.  It  is  only  when  their 
faculties  are  trained  to  act  in  obedience  to  him 
that  their  power  is  effectual.  The  activity  of  a 
holy  will  is  a  pure  delight,  because  it  flows  in  the 
same  current  with  the  wiU  of  God.  The  energy 
of  wickedness  is  a  curse  and  weariness,  because 
the  stronger  it  is,  the  more  it  feels  the  opposition 
of  omnipotence.  This  sort  of  rest  the  unrenewed 
cannot  conceive  of;  but  to  the  Christian  heart 
God  has  revealed  it  already  in  the  foretaste  of  its 
delight. 

Another  element  of  heaven  which  the  Christian 
will  enjoy,  but  which  the  irreligious  never  knew 
by  eye  or  ear  or  thought,  is  peace.     First  of  all, 

24* 


282  THE  christian's  gift. 

peace  with  God,  then  peace  with  each  other. 
Peace  with  God,  because  the  natural  enmity  of 
the  heart  is  slain,  and  the  loving  spirit  of  the 
Christian  has  learned  to  look  upon  him  with  a 
gratitude  that  crowds  his  whole  bosom.  The  feel- 
ing that  used  to  rise  in  rebellion  against  his  deal- 
ings, that  hugged  the  sweet  sins  of  impenitence, 
and  scorned  the  bleeding  Saviour,  that  feeling  is 
delightedly  subdued.  Let  God  manifest  himself 
to  the  renewed  soul  as  he  may,  with  a  rod  or  a 
premium,  by  sickness  of  body,  sorrow  of  the  heart, 
poverty,  widowhood,  or  by  a  prosperous  providence 
and  health  and  domestic  joy,  the  Christian  enjoys 
God  in  every  thing  when  he  is  prosperous,  and 
enjoys  every  thing  in  God  when  he  is  afflicted 
and  cast  down.  So  entirely  reconciled  is  his  own 
heart  to  the  moral  government  of  heaven,  so  pro- 
foundly^ willing  is  he  that  God  should  reign,  and 
reign  just  as  he  pleases,  that  this  inward  reconcili- 
ation becomes  the  source  of  the  purest  peace. 
Transfer  the  Christian  to  Heaven,  and  exalt  that 
sense  of  peace  towards  God  to  such  a  pitch  as  be- 
fits a  perfected  state,  and  it  forms  an  element  of 
eternal  bliss.  ^And  this  peace  is  even  heightened 
by  the  enrapturing  assurance  that  God  is  recon- 


HEAVEN    CONCEIVABLE   ONLY   TO    THE    CHRISTIAN.    283 

ciled  to  him  as  well  as  he  to  God.  The  doom  of 
sin,  whose  hoarse  echo  used  sometimes  to  rebound 
upon  him  even  in  the  hours  of  his  converted  life, 
and  startle  his  soul  into  temporary  dismay,  —  that 
doom  echoes  no  more  to  him.  The  doubts  that 
used  sometimes  to  steal  in  upon  his  privacy  and 
cloud  the  whole  horizon  of  faith,  and  turn  even 
his  prayers  to  gloom,  doubts  that  even  the  cross 
and  the  crucified  could  not  quite  dispel,  —  those 
doubts  are  dissolved  in  the  perfect  brightness  with 
w^hich  he  sees  and  feels  all  around  him,  that  God 
is  not  his  enemy,  that  Jesus  did  not  bleed  and 
groan  in  vain  for  him.  His  eye  and  ear  and  heart 
never  knew  before  that  fulness  of  joy.  The  peace 
of  God  which  passeth  all  understanding  of  the 
Christian  on  earth,  becomes  therefore  an  added 
element  of  his  eternal  bliss ;  for  he  has  the  wak- 
ing consciousness,  in  every  pulse  of  his  beatified 
life,  that  for  him  there  is  no  more  curse. 

Yet  again,  heaven  is  a  state  of  happy  peace,  be- 
cause the  redeemed  themselves,  loving  and  loved, 
have  no  strife  with  each  other.  The  mutual  jeal- 
ousies that  disturb  the  church  on  earth ;  the  pride 
that  looks  down  in  contempt  upon  the  unfashiona- 
ble and  poor,  and  the  envy  that  looks  up  in  hot 


284  THE  christian's  gift. 

resentment  upon  the  rich  and  high ;  the  suspicion 
of  others'  unsoundness  in  the  faith ;  the  scandal 
that  is  reported  of  their  errors  and  faults,  —  these 
feelings,  and  such  as  these,  which  mar  the  unity 
of  Christ's  body,  and  sometimes  turn  a  church  of 
holy  brethren  into  an  assembly  of  wranglers,  and 
change  the  communion  of  the  saints  to  a  common 
hypocrisy,  —  these,  there  is  nothing  like  these  in 
heaven.  Brothers  in  Christ  fraternize  there  if  not 
here.  They  see  eye  to  eye.  Heart  lays  itself 
alongside  of  heart,  and  they  beat  with  one  com- 
mon pulse  of  affection  and  confidence.  Every 
cold-hearted  and  unkind  feeling,  is  consumed  in 
the  generous  fervor  of  that  holy  love  which  melts 
all  heaven  to  tenderness,  and  fills  heaven  w^ith 
peace.  Would  that  eye  might  see,  and  ear  hear, 
and  heart  might  know  more  of  this  happy  one- 
ness on  earth.  But  the  true  Christian  has  tasted 
its  quality  even  here,  and  among  the  first  evi- 
dences by  which. he  knew  that  he  had  passed  from 
death  unto  life,  was  that  he  loved  the  brethren. 
Let  Christians  cherish  this  feeling  more  and  more, 
and  realize  the  unity  of  the  Christian  spirit,  lest 
if  they  should  go  to  heaven,  they  should  need  to 
be  regenerated  anew. 


HEAVEN  CONCEIVABLE  ONLY  TO  THE  CHRISTUN.  285 

Heaven  also  is  a  place  of  riches  such  as  eye 
hath  not  seen,  etc.  It  is  depicted  to  us  as  a 
treasure  imperishable,  which  moth  and  rust  can- 
not corrupt,  nor  thieves  break  through  and  steal. 
By  such  images  does  the  inspiration  of  the  Al- 
mighty  shadow  forth  the  conception  of  heaven  to 
human  understanding  and  desire.  Yet  how  un- 
like is  the  reality  of  this  treasure,  to  the  riches  of 
the  world  which  stand  for  its  type.  While  our 
wealth  perishes  in  the  using,  while  the  more  we 
have  the  more  we  want,  while  its  increase  is  apt 
to  make  us  more  selfish,  narrowing  the  soul  to  an 
object  this  side  of  heaven,  and  steeling  the  heart 
against  the  appeals  of  kindly  charity,  till  we  find 
it  easier  to  expend  tenfold  upon  ourselves,  than  to 
bestow  a  tithe  for  the  Saviour ;  while  thus  every 
gain  eagerly  sought,  becomes  a  snare  until  our 
trust  in  riches  makes  it  hard  to  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  the  riches  of  heaven  never 
fade,  never  tempt  the  soul  to  avarice,  never 
awaken  a  throb  of  selfish  desire,  but  fill,  as  with 
the  sense  of  eternal  sufficiency,  the  heart  to  the 
whole  circle  of  created  want,  inspire  it  with  a  gen- 
erosity that  seeks  to  enrich  the  world,  and  deepens 
our  love  to  the  Great  Giver. 


286  THE  christian's  gift. 

Such  is  heaven's  wealth  known  here  only  to 
the  Christian  who  is  rich  in  the  contentment  of 
trust  in  God,  who  spurns  not  indeed  the  providen- 
tial prosperity,  but  who  will  give  ten  times  more 
to  relieve  an  unfortunate  man,  rather  than  take 
advantage  of  his  necessity  to  enrich  himself  Let 
him  that  heareth,  in  this  covetous  age,  understand 
how  easily  the  gains  of  this  life  may  impoverish 
his  eternity,  and  doom  him  to  the  sentence,  "  Son, 
remember  that  thou  in  thy  lifetime  receivedst  thy 
good  things." 

Again,  heaven,  as  a  state  of  surpassing  excel- 
lence, is  represented  as  a  scene  of  pleasures,  such 
as  eye  hath  not  seen,  etc.  "In  thy  presence," 
says  the  Psalmist,  "  is  fulness  of  joy,  at  thy  right 
hand  are  pleasures  forevermore : "  "  the  faith- 
ful shall  be  satisfied  with  the  fdtness  of  his 
house,  and  shall  be  made  to  drink  of  the  river  of 
his  pleasures."  Pleasure,  that  name  of  a  sweet 
poison !  Pleasure,  that  bliss  of  the  body  and  tor- 
ment of  the  soul!  Pleasure,  that  forgets  every 
thing  in  the  joy  of  pursuit,  and  is  condemned  to 
remember  nothing  else  but  the  shame  of  the  in- 
dulgence, —  worldly  pleasure,  how  can  it  stand  as 
the  type  of  heaven?     Only  by  contrast,  surely. 


HEAVEN    CONCEIVABLE    ONLY    TO    THE    CHRISTL\N.    287 

Yet  heaven  is  pleasure  in  its  unearthly  nature 
and  its  sublime  degree.  For  every  faculty  will  be 
attuned  to  joy,  every  nerve  strung  to  ecstasy. 
Are  there  pleasures  of  sight  for  the  bodies  of  the 
resurrection,  such  as  the  eye  hath  not  seen  on 
earth  ?  Then  think  of  the  objects  of  vision  fitted 
to  the  immortalized  powers,  where  the  eye  looks 
through  a  flood  of  transparency  upon  all  the 
works  of  God ;  where  worlds  and  worlds  shine  to- 
gether, not  in  meagre  rays  but  in  near  and  full- 
orbed  splendor ;  where  creation  unfolds  itself  to 
the  eye  not  in  perspective  and  piecemeal,  but  in 
one  broad  map,  as  to  the  eye  of  God ;  where  the 
light  itself  is  the  uncreated  brightness  of  his  pres- 
ence, and  where  the  eye  is  so  strong  in  power 
that  it  can  gaze  right  at  the  living  glory,  and  be 
neither  dazzled  nor  dismayed,  but  rapt  into  con- 
scious bliss. 

Are  there  pleasures  of  hearing  for  the  bodies  of 
the  resurrection  such  as  ear  hath  not  heard  on 
earth  ?  Then  think  again  of  the  sounds  suited  to 
the  faculties  of  our  immortality,  where  the  gentle 
breathing  of  the  atmosphere,  or  the  rush  of  a 
hallelujah,  or  that  voice  which  is  as  the  sound  of 
many  waters,  shall  each  be  like  sweet  music,  and 


288  THE  christian's  gift. 

such  harmony  as  can  be  known  only  in  the  pres- 
ence of  God !  And  will  not  the  mind  have  its  pleas- 
ures in  heaven  such  as  have  not  entered  into 
the  heart  ?  Freed  from  the  thraldom  of  the  flesh, 
full  of  the  wholesome  vigor  of  immortality,  quick, 
penetrating,  untried,  will  not  its  exercises  be  the 
purest  intellectual  delight  ?  What  can  exceed 
the  enjoyment,  for  example,  that  would  spring 
from  the  unthought  of  increase  of  its  knowledge, 
when  instead  of  standing  as  we  do  here  at  the 
outside  portals  of  truth,  and  catching  through  the 
half  open  door  broken  glimpses  of  the  beauty 
and  light  within,  we  are  ushered  into  the  secret 
places  of  knowledge,  traverse  the  radiant  cham- 
bers, tracing  out  the  principles  of  things,  and 
following  them  up  to  broader,  brighter,  sublimer 
degrees,  until  we  reach  the  very  source  of  truth, 
and  stand  face  to  face  before  the  truth  embodied 
in  the  living  God ! 

Are  there  not,  besides,  joys  of  memory,  and 
will  not  they  be  fruitful  in  heaven,  full  of  the 
bliss  of  gratitude  ?  How  will  the  mind  of  a  saved 
sinner  love  to  travel  over  his  past  life,  and  recall 
and  revolve  its  events,  human  and  divine;  his 
own  errors,  and  God's  correction  of  them;   how 


HEAVEN   CONCEIVABLE   ONLY   TO    THE    CHRISTIAN.     289 

he  would  have  ruined  himself,  and  heaven  for- 
fended  it;  how,  when  he  used  to  spurn  divine 
grace  and  rebel  against  divine  control,  God  drew 
him  out  of  the  mire  and  clay  of  his  sins,  and  set 
his  feet  upon  a  rock,  and  established  his  goings, 
and  drew  him  affectionately  to  salvation !  When 
he  remembers  all  this,  and  views  the  past  by 
eternity's  light,  and  interprets  his  history  by  its 
issue  of  glory,  will  not  retrospection  be  a  pleas- 
ure, such  as  never  entered  his  heart  before,  and 
while  it  fills  him  with  amazement  and  humility, 
will  it  not  exalt  him  with  the  ecstasy  of  grati- 
tude, and  make  him  love  to  remember  forevermore  ? 
Such  are  some  of  the  delights  as  yet  unfelt  by 
mortal  experience,  unconceived  by  mortal  mind, 
prepared  for  the  children  of  God,  —  pleasures  of 
sense  and  pleasures  of  the  intellect,  such  as  our 
glorified  humanity  alone  can  know ! 

But  we  should  be  most  unjust  to  our  delightful 
theme,  and  throw  an  air  of  falsity  over  the  whole 
view,  if  we  should  neglect  to  notice  one  other 
source  of  pleasure  prepared  for  the  sainted  dead  in 
glory,  —  the  pleasures  of  the  heart,  the  delight  of 
gratified  affection.  For  remember  that  all  the 
unspeakable  bliss  of  heaven  is  prepared  for  those 

25 


290  THE  christian's  gift. 

alone,  who  love  God.  And  while  this  love  is  thus 
the  condition  of  heaven's  happiness,  it  is  itself  the 
source  and  spring  of  heaven's  highest  rapture.  A 
love  it  is,  not  like  our  human  loves,  built  upon 
accident  or  propinquity,  poisoned  even  when 
strongest  by  jealousy,  disturbed  by  a  careless 
word,  broken  by  a  difference  of  opinion,  estranged 
by  self-interest,  turned  into  hate  by  a  slight  or 
neglect,  —  but  a  love  that  is  like  a  new  life,  su- 
preme within  the  breast,  commanding  all  our 
powers,  inspiring  all  our  motives,  and  springing 
up  unceasingly  from  gratitude  for  the  profoundest 
benefits  of  time  and  eternity ;  such  a  love  —  the 
Christian's  love  to  God  —  hallowing  his  whole 
being,  and  making  him  a  li^dng  temple.  Faint 
and  interrupted  as  this  love  so  often  is  here,  it 
cannot  be  so  in  heaven.  If  it  could,  heaven  could 
not  be  happy.  For  in  the  heart  of  man  alone 
resides  his  happiness,  and  out  of  the  abundance 
of  the  heart  the  mouth  utters  it.  What  must  be 
the  intensity  of  that  pleasure  of  the  heart,  when 
it  is  brought  into  the  very  presence  of  its  adorr.- 
ble  object,  —  when  the  days  and  years  of  its  eter- 
nity are  spent  in  communion  with  him,  —  when 
new  gifts  ceaselessly  bestowed  by  the  loving  father, 


HEAVEN   CONCEIVABLE    ONLY    TO    THE    CHRISTIAN.     291 

excite  the  immortalized  nature  of  his  child  to 
new  and  newer  returns  of  love !  As  he  grows 
stronger  in  heaven,  and  more  celestial  in  his 
whole  character,  the  Christian  will  be  more  and 
more  like  God,  and  draw  continually  nearer  to 
Him.  This  love  to  the  Father  must  deepen  as  he 
approaches  his  perfect  likeness,  —  his  love  to  the 
Son,  as  he  receives  the  fresh  benefits  of  his  atone- 
ment,—  his  love  to  the  Spirit,  as  his  blessed  im- 
pulses support  and  urge  him  in  the  upward  path 
of  increasing  purity. 

I  know  that  it  hath  never  entered  into  the  heart 
of  the  holiest  Christian  on  earth  to  fathom  the 
deep  of  that  felicity  of  love.  The  holiest  Chris- 
tian can  only  know  enough  of  it  to  know  that  it 
will  be  his  nature's  highest  bliss,  and  to  know, 
besides,  that  his  nature  can  never  be  so  filled  with 
that  bliss  that  he  shall  want  no  more.  For  this 
blessed  communion  with  God  his  heart  longs.  It 
is  this  which  makes  him  have  a  desire  to  depart, 
and  to  say,  who  would  not  drop  this  load  of  clay 
and  die  to  see  thy  face ;  when  I  awake  in  thy 
likeness,  I  shall  be  satisfied;  come,  Lord  Jesus. 
And  now,  would  that  those  who  are  Christians 
might  live  up  to  this  high  calling,  holding  the 


292  THE  christian's  gift. 

prize  in  view,  and  preparing  for  God's  inheritance 
by  living  as  his  heirs  here  on  earth.  How  far 
short  we  are  contented  to  be  from  our  privi- 
leges. How  deeply  we  might  foretaste,  if  we 
would,  the  bliss  that  we  hope  for.  How  much 
higher  might  be  our  first  stand  in  heaven,  if  we 
would  but  aim  to  begin  our  heaven  here  below. 
Let  us,  then,  aim  for  a  deeper  religious  experience. 
Let  us  live  more  apart  from  our  worldliness,  and 
more  near  to  God  by  prayer  and  heavenly  medi- 
tation. Let  us  ask  his  Spirit  to  increase  the  fervor 
and  truth  of  our  love,  and  to  reveal  to  us  more 
fully  the  things,  that  he  hath  prepared  for  his 
affectionate  children. 


REST.  293 


REST, 


"  Rest  for  the  weary,  rest  I 

For  oh !  he  cannot  bear 
The  heavy  weight  that  fills  his  breast,  — 

The  crushing  load  of  care. 

Year  after  year  rolls  on, 

But  no  relief  is  given,  — 
O,  when  will  the  burdened,  weary  one 

Be  blessed  with  the  peace  of  heaven  ? 

"  Rest  for  the  soldier,  rest ! 

His  mortal  foes  are  strong ; 
They  have  smitten  the  plume  of  his  blazon'd  crest, 

And  the  battle  hath  lasted  long ; 

His  standard  trails  the  ground ; 

And  his  hopes  are  even  as  low ; 
And  again  doth  the  trumpet's  awakening  sound 

Bespeak  the  advancing  foe. 

"  Rest  for  the  pilgrim,  rest ! 

The  way  is  lone  and  drear ; 
The  red  lights  fade  in  the  distant  west, 

And  the  dark'ning  clouds  appear. 

He  longs  for  his  father's  home, 

Where  the  palm-trees  proudly  rise ; 
And  the  shadows  of  eve  may  come 

To  mantle  the  radiant  skies. 

25* 


294  THE    CHRISTIA^s's    GITT. 

"  Rest  for  the  mourner,  rest ! 

O,  when  will  the  yawning  grave 
Delight  not  to  take  the  dearest  and  best 

Of  the  lovely  and  the  brave ! 

Our  hands  have  scarcely  borne 

One  friend  to  his  narrow  bed, 
Ere  another,  by  painful  sickness  worn, 

Is  numbered  with  the  dead. 

"  Rest  for  the  ransomed,  rest ! 

The  gate  of  death  is  past ; 
O,  mingle  your  voice  with  the  songs  of  the  blest, 

For  your  home  is  found  at  last. 

The  mourner's  tears  are  gone,  — 

The  pilgrim's  toils  are  o'er,  — 
The  soldier  a  glorious  crown  hath  won,  — 

And  the  weary  cares  no  more." 


XV. 

PRAISE,    THE    EMPLOYMENT    OF    THE 
INHABITANTS    OF    HEAVEN. 

BY   REV.   EDWARD   N.   KIRK,   D.  D. 


The  servants  of  God  who  have  left  the  earth 
are  not  lost  either  to  God,  or  to  the  great  family 
of  the  good.  We  have  not  only  the  assurance  of 
this,  but  information  concerning  their  place  of 
abode,  and  their  employments  in  the  bright  re- 
gions above. 

In  the  splendid  visions  granted  to  St  John,  he 
beheld  the  living  creatures,  the  angels  and  the 
redeemed  round  about  the  throne,  engaged  in  the 
worship  of  the  Father  and  of  the  Lamb.  And 
the  idea  is  prominently  presented  in  the  Scrip- 
tures, that  adoration  will  constitute  one  of  the 
chief  and  most  delightful  employments,  of  the 
blessed  in  the  world  of  glory. 

(295) 


296  THE  christian's  gift. 

Probably  many  who  are  preparing  themselves 
for  heaven,  have  not  sufficiently  anticipated  its 
peculiar  occupations.  Now,  to  remove  any  doubts 
about  the  blessedness  of  this  employment,  and  to 
enlist  our  hearts  more  fully  in  its  beginnings  here 
on  earth,  let  us  call  to  mind  the  fact  that  the 
employment  God  furnishes  us  here,  comes  by  the 
exercise  of  our  own  powers  and  feelings.  What 
interest  have  we  in  literature,  in  society,  in  travel- 
ling, but  that  which  comes  from  the  exercise  of 
our  own  powers  by  means  of  them?  We  may 
need  objects  out  of  the  sphere  of  our  own  being, 
to  draw  forth  our  faculties  into  exercise.  But  in 
that  exercise  we  are  to  find  our  happiness.  And 
the  nobler  the  faculty  we  exercise,  the  more  ele- 
vated our  enjoyment.  With  this  thought  in  view, 
we  would  remark  that 

The  praise  of  God  will  remit  from  the  highest 
employment  of  the  intellect. 

Observe  the  themes  which  are  to  engage  the 
minds  of  angels,  and  of  the  redeemed,  as  ex- 
pressed in  their  anthem :  "  Holy,  holy,  holy  Lord 
God  Almighty,  which  was,  and  is,  and  is  to  come. 
Thou  art  worthy,  0  Lord,  to  receive  glory,  and 
honor,   and   power ;    for,   thou  hast   created   all 


PRAISE,  THE  EMPLOYMENT  OF  HEAVEN.     297 

things,  and  for  thy  pleasure  they  are  and  were 
created."  "  And  when  the  Lamb  had  taken  the 
book,  the  four  living  creatures,  and  four  and 
twenty  elders  fell  down  before  the  Lamb,  having 
every  one  of  them  harps,  and  they  sung  a  new 
song,  saying,  thou  art  worthy  to  take  the  book, 
and  to  open  the  seals  thereof,  for  thou  wast  slain, 
and  hast  redeemed  us  to  God  by  thy  blood  out 
of  every  kindred,  and  tongue,  and  people,  and 
nation." 

Among  the  grandest  pursuits  of  men  on  earth 
are  intellectual  researches.  The  loftiest  minds 
have  found  ample  sources  of  enjoyment,  both  in 
their  intellectual  efforts,  and  in  contemplating  the 
intellectual  efforts  of  others.  None  can  doubt  that 
Kepler  and  Newton  enjoyed  a  most  refined  and 
exalted  satisfaction  in  studying  the  mighty  forces 
and  masses  of  creation,  and  the  mightier  laws 
which  control  their  movements.  How  exalted 
must  have  been  the  delight  of  Plato  in  entering 
the  sublime  sphere  of  philosophic  research;  or 
that  of  Milton  in  creating  an  ideal  world ! 

But  what  is  the  intellectual  employment  of 
heaven?  The  living  creatures,  mighty  angels, 
glowing  seraphim,  and  redeemed  men  are  think- 


298  THE  christian's  gift. 

ing  of  the  holy  Lord  God  Almighty.  With  puri- 
fied, quickened  intellect,  each  inhabitant  has 
entered  that  great  school  where  God  is  seen  in  his 
works  ;  above  his  works ;  infinitely  more  glorious 
than  his  most  glorious  works.  If  science,  with  its 
wonders  of  astronomy,  geology,  and  chemistry, 
has  enraptured  the  minds  of  its  diligent  disciples, 
what  must  be  their  delight  who  have  passed  from 
dim  mirrors,  and  thick  veils,  to  look  with  open 
face  on  Him  who  created  all  that  is !  They  study 
him  whose  duration  comprehends  infinity  of  time 
and  space,  eternity  past  and  future.  They  study 
the  universe  through  its  almighty  and  glorious 
author.  All  duration,  grandeur,  strength,  and 
beauty  are  in  him,  and  of  him.  They  learn  in 
Him  the  final  cause  or  rational  end  of  the  uni- 
verse. And  that  is  the  profoundest  and  sublimest 
knowledge.  What  an  impression,  then,  must  it 
make  on  their  minds,  to  study  in  Him  the  vast 
end  of  creation !  How  profound  in  wisdom ;  how 
pure  in  motive  !  "  Holy,  holy,  holy  Lord  God 
Almighty!  0  the  depth  of  the  riches  both  of 
the  wisdom  and  knowledge  of  God ! " 

Then  the  mind  has  another   theme  of  enrap- 
turing study.     It  is  redeeming  grace.     Paul,  who 


PRAISE,   THE   EMPLOYMENT    OF   HEA^^EN.  299 

studied  it  more  profoundly,  perhaps,  than  any 
other  of  our  race,  found  in  it  the  sources  of  sub- 
limest  joy,  even  here  on  earth.  Was  there  on 
earth  a  man  whom  he  could  envy?  Read  his 
epistles  glowing  with  angelic  raptures  wherever 
the  grace  of  God,  the  person  and  the  work  of  the 
Redeemer,  cross  the  disk  of  his  telescope.  We 
find  now  great  dehght  in  contemplating  the  dis- 
plays of  philanthropy  and  public  spirit  which 
adorn  the  annals  of  our  race.  And  they  are  a 
legitimate  source  of  delight.  What,  then,  must 
be  the  feelings  of  that  vast  multitude  who  are 
themselves  the  objects  of  redeeming  mercy,  who 
are  inheriting  its  richest  blessings,  and  looking  on 
the  face  of  their  divine  benefactor!  Here  the 
social  feeling  finds  its  most  enrapturing  exercises. 
Each  one  is  animated  by  gazing  first  on  the 
Redeemer,  and  then  on  the  redeemed;  such  a 
Saviour;  such  a  salvation!  Well  may  they  fall 
down  before  him  that  sits  on  the  throne,  and  wor- 
ship him  that  liveth  forever,  and  cast  their  crowns 
before  him,  saying,  "  Thou  art  worthy,  0  Lord,  to 
receive  glory,  and  honor,  and  power,  for  thou 
wast  slain,  and  hast  redeemed  us  to  God  by  thy 
blood." 


300 


We  are  mquiring  after  the  sources  of  happiness 
in  heaven ;  not  so  much  from  what  we  may  be- 
come, which,  the  Scriptures  declare,  is  as  yet 
beyond  our  powers  of  conception,  but  from  what 
we  as  yet  know  of  our  capacity  for  happiness. 
And  we  have  now  taken  but  that  one  description 
of  heaven  which  includes  its  meditations  and  its 
praises;  of  which  we  have  thus  far  said  and 
showed  what  intellectual  delight  and  satisfaction, 
nay,  rapturous  joy  it  may  afford.  Perhaps  the 
rapture  is  the  effect  of  joy  acting  on  our  present 
unbalanced  frames.  Be  it  so,  or  not ;  it  is  to  us, 
at  present,  of  little  consequence.  But  we  find  a 
type  of  one  form  of  heaven's  joy  when  we  see 
the  Grecian  philosopher  in  ecstasy  exclaiming  at 
the  mere  discovery  of  one  principle  in  nature, 
"Eureka,  eureka  ;  "  or,  see  the  philosopher  of 
Syracuse  so  absorbed  in  his  studies,  as  to  per- 
mit himself  to  be  slain  by  the  soldiery,  without 
an  attempt  to  leave  the  place  of  danger.  We  see 
something  of  it  in  the  enthusiasm  of  Kepler's 
feelings  in  reviewing  his  discoveries  in  astronomy, 
and  Gibbon's  feelings  on  finishing  his  History  of 
the  Eoman  Empire. 

We  have,   then,   in   our   spiritual   nature,  yet 


PRAISE,  THE  EMPLOYMENT  OF  HEAVEN.     30] 

another  avenue  of  joy,  which  the  praises  of 
heaven  will  bring  into  the  fullest  exercise.  For 
want  of  a  better  word,  we  call  it 

The  oesthetic  facuUy ^  or  sendbilitt/. 

It  is  that  by  which  a  flower,  a  cataract,  a  star,  a 
sunset,  a  poem,  or  music  charm  us.  And  in  re- 
gard to  this  faculty,  it  is  ascertained  that  mate- 
rial beauty  charms  us  most  when  it  is  expressive 
of,  or  symbolizes  moral  excellence ;  and  that 
moral  excellence  is  the  highest  form  of  beauty ; 
furnishing  the  most  pure,  refining,  and  enduring 
delight  to  the  mind.  But  holiness  is  the  sum  of 
moral  excellence.  Our  depraved  race  now  see  it 
by  ghmpses.  One  admires  order;  another,  jus- 
tice ;  another,  rectitude  ;  another,  patriotism, 
honor,  kindness,  self-sacrifice,  disinterestedness, 
delicate  perception  of  others'  feelings,  veracity^ 
fidelity,  magnanimity.  The  most  abandoned  loves 
one  or  more  of  these  qualities ;  for  everybody 
seems  to  have  a  favorite  virtue.  But,  when  we 
shall  come  to  be  purified  from  all  that  is  defiling, 
emancipated  from  all  that  is  enslaving,  and  illu- 
minated with  heavenly  Hght,  then  shall  we  demand 
the  perfection  of  character,  the  whole  cluster  of  the 
graces  constituting  a  perfect  unit ;  the  combined 

26 


302  THE  christian's  gift. 

and  blended  rays  of  the  rainbow,  to  make  a  per- 
fect atmosphere  of  hght.  Then,  when  the  un- 
clouded character  of  God  shall  shine  forth,  when 
his  moral  government  shall  be  comprehended, 
every  holy  intelligence  enraptured  will  exclaim 
with  angels  and  men,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy  Lord  God 
Almighty  ! "  Justice,  truth,  love,  wisdom,  wield- 
ing all  power,  guiding  all  events,  reconstructing  a 
world  without  moral  blemish,  educing  greatest 
good  from  greatest  evil;  this  will  inspire  every 
holy  creature  with  the  loftiest  joy  of  which  crea- 
tmres  are  capable.  And  the  completion  of  that 
joy  will  be  found  in  its  social  utterance  in  praise ; 
with  beings  that  have  never  sinned,  and  a  race 
redeemed  from  sin. 

There  is,  then,  one  other  source  of  holy  joy. 
It  is  found  in  the  gratification  of 

The  benevolent  feelings.  A  strict  analysis  would 
include  this  class  of  feelings  in  those  just  men- 
tioned. But  they  are  distinct  in  this  respect, 
when  we  contemplate  the  value  of  happiness,  we 
love  that  happiness ;  and  whatever  promises  to 
promote  it,  we  love,  merely  considered  as  a  means 
to  that  end.  And  the  more  complete  the  assur- 
ance  it  furnishes  that  it   can   and   will    secure 


PRAISE,   THE  EMPLOYMENT   OF   HEAVEN.  303 

that  end,  the  more  it  delights  a  benevolent  mind. 
But  the  moral  beauty  of  benevolence  is  some- 
thing distinct  from  its  mere  utility.  It  is  the 
intrinsic  loveliness  of  virtue.  That  we  have  been 
considering.  Now  we  turn  to  notice  the  desire  of 
every  holy  angel  and  redeemed  human  being,  to 
see  benevolence  or  love  on  the  eternal  throne, 
armed  with  Omnipotence;  able  to  overrule  evil, 
without  destroying  moral  agency ;  full  of  kindness 
toward  the  dependent  creation  his  power  has 
brought  into  existence ;  fixed  in  the  immutable 
purpose  to  make  a  paradise,  across  whose  boundar 
ries  no  serpent  should  ever  crawl  again ;  and  now 
in  a  condition  in  which  his  wisdom  deems  it  right 
to  pledge,  that  their  blessedness  is  made  as  really 
immutable  as  His  own.  Is  it  strange,  then,  that  all 
the  inhabitants  of  heaven  rest  not,  day  nor  night, 
saying,  "Holy,  holy,  holy  Lord  God  Almighty; 
thou  art  worthy  to  receive  glory,  and  honor,  and 
power  ?  " 

We  must  be  careful  of  two  extremes  in  regard 
to  all  the  descriptions  of  heaven ;  that  of  indefi- 
nite, vague  thought,  which  destroys  its  attractive- 
ness to  hope ;  and  that  materializing  literalness  of 
interpretation,  which  makes  heaven  appear  the 


304  THE  christian's  gift. 

less  desirable,  the  more  fit  we  become  for  it. 
There  are  probably  no  harps  there.  If  John  had 
written  in  our  day,  he  would  perhaps  have  named 
the  organ.  But  the  harp  and  the  organ,  and  the 
more  exquisite  voice  of  the  present  body  can,  at 
best,  but  faintly  symbolize  the  joyous  employ- 
ments of  that  world. 

Let  us  then  remember  that  the  meaning  of  the 
^apostle's  language  is  literally,  that  we  shall  be  so 
■affected  by  nothing  as  by  the  character,  govern- 
ment, and  grace  of  God ;  we  shall  feel  no  claim  on 
our  love  and  gratitude  to  be  in  any  way  compara- 
ble to  the  claim  of  his  providence  and  grace  ;  that 
•our  love,  gratitude,  and  joyous  thanksgiving  will  be 
no  hinderance  to  any  needed  attention  to  our  own 
welfare,  or  to  any  employment  of  our  powers  for 
the  public  good.  Praise  is  represented  as  the  one 
employment  of  heaven,  then,  in  order  to  contrast 
that  state  of  existence  with  ours  here  on  earth. 
Here  we  are  commanded,  whether  we  eat  or  drink, 
or  whatever  we  do,  to  do  all  to  the  glory  of  God. 
Few  obey  it  here ;  none,  perfectly,  perhaps.  There, 
every  act  is  praise,  every  word  is  praise.  No  cre- 
ated glory  dazzles  any  created  vision ;  no  creature 
act  turns  any  creature  thought  from  God.     Crea- 


PRAISE,  THE    EMPLOYMENT   OP  HEAVEN.  305 

tures  love  each  other  perfectly  there;  but  it  is 
because  they  love  God  supremely.  No  duty  to 
the  Commonwealth  is  there  neglected;  for  each 
citizen  of  heaven  resembles  the  earth;  which, 
while  it  turns  on  its  own  axis,  giving  light  to  its 
own  inhabitants,  at  the  same  time  yields  to  the 
higher  attractions  of  the  mighty  central  orb,  and 
sweeps  on  in  its  magnificent  sphere,  to  perform  its 
part  in  the  vast  solar  system.  It  is  the  annual, 
solar  revolution,  not  the  diurnal,  axial  movement, 
which  the  apostle  describes. 

If  such  be  our  prospects,  one  thing  is  then  man- 
ifest ;  we  ought  to  be  preparing  ourselves  for  that 
state  of  blessedness,  and  that  heavenly  employ- 
ment. One  thing  is  manifest ;  self  and  the  world 
must  be  dethroned  in  our  hearts,  and  the  thrice 
holy  One  who  is,  and  was,  and  is  to  come,  who 
has  created  all  things,  and  for  whose  pleasure  they 
exist,  and  were  created,  must  become  supreme  in 
our  intellects,  sensibilities,  and  wills.  Pride,  self- 
ishness, and  worldliness,  as  manifested  in  our 
lives,  are  to  be  deplored;  and,  as  found  in  our 
hearts,  are  to  be  renounced.  A  true  and  profound 
repentance  is  the  first  step  to  all  spiritual  improve- 
ment ;  a  repentance  so  deep,  that  in  the  contem- 
26* 


306  THE  christian's  gift. 

plation  of  God,  all  worldly  gain,  greatness,  and 
honor,  shall  fade  out  like  the  stars  before  the 
rising  glory  of  the  Infinite  and  Eternal  One ;  in 
which  we  shall  come  to  loathe  and  abhor  ourselves 
because  we  have  had  such  low  and  unworthy  con- 
ceptions of  Him.  If  we  now  have  a  crown  which 
we  would  not  joyfully  cast  from  our  brow  at 
Emmanuel's  feet ;  if  any  thing  can  stir  our  souls 
like  the  manifestation  of  his  glory,  then  we  have 
much  to  do  in  preparation  for  our  residence  in 
heaven.  If  our  hearts  are  not  full  of  admiration 
and  joy  at  the  contemplation  of  God  in  providence, 
creation,  and  redemption,  then  we  are  not  ready 
for  heaven.  Let  Christians  with  tears  confess  be- 
fore their  Lord,  that  they  are  all  too  unprepared 
for  that  world  which  they  are  so  soon  to  enter,  and 
to  dwell  in  for  ever ;  for  that  society  they  are  so 
soon  to  join,  and  enjoy  for  ever ;  for  that  worship 
in  which  they  are  soon  to  participate ;  for  that  an- 
them they  are  to  sing,  day  and  night,  "  Holy,  holy, 
holy  Lord  God  Almighty,  which  was,  and  is,  and  is 
to  come."  That  earthly  life  is  thrown  away,  an 
utter  waste,  which  does  not  terminate  in  a  full  pre- 
paredness to  take  our  place  and  portion  in  the 
worship  of  God  by  the  heavenly  hosts. 


WHAT   MUST    IT    BE   TO    BE   THERE !  307 


"WHAT    MUST    IT    BE    TO    BE    THERE!" 

"  We  speak  of  the  realms  of  the  blest, 
Of  that  country  so  bright  and  so  fair, 
And  oft  are  its  glories  confessed ; 
But  what  must  it  be  to  be  there ! 

"  We  speak  of  its  pathways  of  gold, 

And  its  walls  decked  with  jewels  most  rare, 
Of  its  wonders  and  pleasures  untold, 
But  what  must  it  be  to  be  there ! 

"  We  speak  of  its  freedom  from  sm. 
From  soiTow,  temptation,  and  care. 
From  trials  without  and  within  ; 
But  what  must  it  be  to  be  there ! 

"  We  speak  of  its  service  of  love, 

Of  the  robes  which  the  glorified  wear. 
Of  the  church  of  the  first-born  above ; 
But  what  must  it  be  to  be  there ! 

**  Then  let  us,  midst  pleasure  and  woe. 
Still  for  heaven  our  spirits  prepare  ; 
And  shortly  we  also  shall  know 
And  feel  what  it  is  to  be  there ! " 


308  TIIE    CmilSTLi^^'s    GIFT. 


THE    CELESTIAL    CITY. 

The  golden  palace  of  my  God, 

Towering  above  the  clouds,  I  see ; 
Beyond  the  cherub's  bright  abode, 

Higher  than  angel's  thoughts  can  be. 
How  can  I  in  those  courts  appear, 

Without  a  wedding  garment  on  ? 
Conduct  me,  thou  Life-giver,  there. 

Conduct  me  to  thy  glorious  throne  ! 
And  clothe  me  with  thy  robes  of  light, 
And  lead  me  through  sin's  darksome  night. 

My  Saviour  and  my  God. 

Russian  Poetry. 


IV 


ps 


14  DAY  USE 

LOAN  DEPT. 

*•            u    i,«,  date  stamped  below,  or 
This  book  is  -1- Xtt'o  whiA  re^«^.            „ 
on  the  date  to              ;       gjiate  tecalL 
Renewed  booksaresub)ecrtoj 


I  ■'  ■', 


JAN__8J9B6 

SC.C(&DEC  A'85 


T  -n  91  A-50m-4,'59 
^(Ar724sl0)476B 


General  Library     . 
Berkeley 


YC  30312 


GENERAL  LIBRARY -U.C.  BERKELEY 


B0DDfl3b3'=i5 


941149 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


